


Engorged

by Quillbreaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Horror, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-08-21 15:11:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 97
Words: 123,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16578917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillbreaker/pseuds/Quillbreaker
Summary: Everyone in town fears the haunted Riddle Manor but Harry can't stay away from it. When he gives in to his curiosity and finally goes inside. What he discovers is something he had never even imagined in his wildest dreams. This is my take on The Sleeping Beauty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vladimir_Mithrander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vladimir_Mithrander/gifts), [thoughtfullycoolbasement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtfullycoolbasement/gifts), [StarOfFeanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarOfFeanor/gifts), [Shin_Akazawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shin_Akazawa/gifts), [InkD00dle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkD00dle/gifts), [crystallocks122](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallocks122/gifts), [Momma_Time](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/gifts), [Veneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veneya/gifts), [kuroyuki_nekochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroyuki_nekochan/gifts), [InTheEndgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheEndgame/gifts), [Topa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topa/gifts), [It_is_I](https://archiveofourown.org/users/It_is_I/gifts), [DeepInLOve_MARS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepInLOve_MARS/gifts), [Minjain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minjain/gifts).



> So, this had been stewing in my mind for a while. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know through your reviews what you think about it. Love you all loads. Looking forward to your feedback.

The biting cold chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness, cold seeped into his toes and spread painfully throughout his feet as if it were his bare feet on the side walk rather than sneakers. His lips turned a more blueish hue and his teeth chattered like a pneumatic drill. His second-hand clothes were useless as insulation. He might as well be immersed in a bath of ice for all the protection they afforded him.

He was marching but the night air was wicking his heat away faster than his body could replace it. He could turn back of course, but then what if his uncle was awake? What if his uncle was in the mood to dish out another serving of hurt? What then? No thanks. The blocks passed in a blur, no-one but him was out tonight and who in their right mind would be? The only reason he was outside was to walk off the pain. He shivered again, effectively taking his mind off the pain and making him aware of the cold again. It wasn't a pleasant coldness. It was the kind that made him walk all the faster and brace his head against the wind. No matter how warm the blood in his veins, his face got frozen just the same.

Wintry air swirled around him taking every lick of warmth it could. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, tucking his chin downward into his hoodie. His breath was now only visible under the sporadic streetlights. He had no specific destination in mind. He just needed to escape the pain…the violence…his uncle's rage.

He found himself on the outskirts of town and that surprised him a bit. He had never walked this far before. Maybe he should turn back now. His uncle would have fallen asleep by now. He could easily sneak back into the house and tiptoe up to his room. But…a shadow of doubt crept over him and discouraged his feet from walking back. So, he made his way forward until he found himself infront of Riddle Manor.

He didn't like the Riddle Manor. The mere sight of it made his bones ache and his guts knot. That house was a visual representation of the blackest kind of black, the darkest kind of dark. Evil things had happened there. It was where evil things still lingered.

The old Riddle Manor was located at the edge of town and backed right onto the marshlands. There was a dock in the back of the house that stretched out far into the swamp. The house's windows were shattered, its paint chipping away. People had lived there once, but he'd heard that something wicked had happened behind that black door. Whoever had lived there moved out, leaving the large, dark house to sit on the end of the swamp and slowly crumble.

No one in town went near the old Riddle Manor, not only because it was out of the way and on the edge of town, but because, much like the swamp, there were tales of evil that lurked inside. Those tales scared away even the bravest of children and gave all reasonable adults a good excuse to go nowhere near it.

The closer he walked to the Riddle Manor, the slight prickle in his stomach turned more and more violent with each step he took. He stared up at the second-story windows, the rusted hinges of the dangling blinds. The outside of the house had once been painted navy and white but had long since faded to the colour of rotten wood and chipped flecks of blue. The once-white windowsills still had a few old clay pots sitting on them, no life inside. Inside there was nothing but darkness. There was nothing…no one…but the fine hairs on his arms stood on end. He kept staring at the black depths inside the second-story windows, expecting to see something…someone.

He was afraid. He was afraid, and more curious than he'd been in a long time. He wondered what the inside of the house would look like…if ghosts played with white drapes that covered old pianos, or if glass chandeliers creaked on high hinges as if prepared to crash into the wooden floorboards below. He imagined there would be ancient, moth-ridden floral rugs, different in each room, and a massive oak wardrobe in the foyer with etchings of wizards and butterflies carved into the sides. Maybe an endless staircase into the basement abyss, a tunnel that led to a cellar full of cherry-coloured wine bottles.

Harry had no idea for how long he just stood there, stared up at the house and imagined what it looked from the inside. In the end, his fear won over his curiosity and he turned his back to the manor and was about to walk away when his muscles protested and his body screamed. He was sure there were bruises all over his body. If only he could just sit down for a minute and rest before walking back. He looked at the Manor and shook his head at the thought that popped into his head. No, he couldn't set foot in that house. It was probably locked but even if it wasn't, he couldn't go in there. Who knew what lurked behind those doors?

He sat down on the mouldy stairs and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. For a moment, he imagined the door creaking open, and a monster grabbing him and dragging him into the house but nothing like that happened. The house remained quiet and still and no monsters made any appearances. When he felt that he could walk again, he rose to his feet, gave the house one last curious look and began walking back home…no…not home…just a place where he worked day and night, lived on scraps and dressed in rags.


	2. Chapter 2

Even when he drifted off the trauma to his brain was worse than being awake. He could see him all over again, his uncle coming to his room, his massive hand around his throat to prevent him from screaming as he beat him black and blue with the other. Then he was awake again, breathing hard. How could he drift off to some peaceful slumber when all it did was to make the reality even worse? He envied those who slept with peace. Every night for him was a battle of sleeplessness, a torment that absolutely had be endured rather than a rest to be savoured before morning came and reinforced his miserable existence.

He stared up at the ceiling and fisted the sheets as his body ached from last night's beating. The walk should have worn him out, he should have passed out but it hadn't. Instead, it had left his mind filled with images of what could be inside the Manor. He absolutely hated his brain sometimes. He had to stop thinking about it. He was never going there again. But some part of him desperately wanted to see the insides of the Manor. He cursed that part and closed his eyes again trying to get some rest before morning arrived and he had to get up.

He absolutely despised his life. His years at St. Brutus's had been better than this and that was saying something because they had been incredibly violent to say the least. He turned to his side with a wince and stared at the barred-up window.

His uncle had barred it up because he'd thought that he sneaked out at night. He did sneak out but he used the front door. The idea to run away tempted him once again but he couldn't…not without taking the money that rightfully belonged to him. The money his parents had left him. The money his uncle would be forced to pay him as soon as he turned legal. If he ran away, he wouldn't be allowed access to it so he had to endure all this torment till then. Just three more months. Three more months of this prison and then he'd be free.

He daydreamed about all the things he would be able to do with the money. He could go to college, get a degree, get a job. He could travel. He could get everything he'd ever wanted. He was really looking forward to his independence. The excitement made him giddy and he smiled.

The next morning, he stood in front of the stove, making breakfast for his relatives despite how much his body was aching. His uncle was talking animatedly about some deal that was in the works while his aunt listened. Dudley, his cousin was in the living room watching TV with the volume cranked up. He could feel a migraine coming on and desperately wished for the silence of the night. He served up breakfast silently while his uncle continued talking. His relatives usually ignored him during the day. His uncle only noticed him when he was drunk. He was nothing more than a convenient punching bag for him to take out his daily frustration.

While his relatives ate, he leaned against the counter and once again, his mind drifted back to Riddle Manor. Would it have a kitchen? Damn it! There truly was no other way to stop thinking about the place other than to sat his craving and take a look inside. What if the door's locked? Well he could always sneak in through a window.

He thought about it the rest of the day, his mind conjuring up various images of what it would look like. Whether there really were ghosts in there. People said that whoever went in, never came out. They were lies though. People were too scared to go near it, let alone in it. But even if there was some truth in it, he really wasn't afraid of going missing. It wasn't like his relatives cared about him. His stomach ached and he wondered if he should take a painkiller. He only had three pills left in his secret stash and he decided to save them for the days when his uncle decided to really get rough with him and brought out the brass walking stick. He shuddered involuntarily as the memory of the last time he'd been beaten with it, played in front of his eyes. He shook away his thoughts and focused on the task at hand, which was to neatly fold all his uncle's freshly laundered shirts.

He thanked the heavens when his uncle talked about how good his day had been. That meant no beating tonight. He hadn't quite recovered from yesterday's yet. After doing the dishes, he silently returned to his room and locked the door, not that it hindered his uncle but it gave him a false sense of security.

When the clock on his bedside showed eleven. He pulled the key to the front door from under the mattress, snuck the torch into his hoodie pocket, took off his sneakers and picked them up before unlocking the door to his room and tiptoeing down the stairs. His uncle was snoring loudly on the couch where he had undoubtedly passed out. He unlocked the front door, opened it as silently as possible and stepped out before closing it and locking it again. Once outside, he pulled on his sneakers and jogged down the block. From there, he slowed down his pace and started making his way to the Manor.

This was incredibly stupid but he really couldn't contain his excitement. He felt like every fibre of his being was vibrating with anticipation. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. The excitement wired his body like he was plugged into the mains. He felt like his brain was on fast-forward and there was no off switch. He tingled from his head to his toes, bounced on his flexing feet and rubbed his hands together. This was either going to very good or very bad. Maybe he should go back while he had the chance. No bloody way. He wasn't a coward and besides he had to purge himself of his curiosity once and for all.

The wind howled, like the tormented cries of a tortured man. It blew across him and chilled the tips of his bones; he had no gloves and it was a freezing winter night. Towering in front of him stood the decrepit Manor which let out a negative vibe that engulfed his excitement. He could feel evilness oozing out of every crack and crevice of the dismal stone walls of the house. The tenebrous sky only added to the frightening atmosphere.

The heavy oak double doors looked far more intimidating now. He pushed, expecting them to be closed but was mildly surprised when they opened Harry's ears resonated with the quiet squeal of the hinges as the entrance hall of the Manor became visible. He peered through the darkness, but couldn't see anything, making his stomach knot as wave of uncertainty crashed over him. He tried hard to walk away from it, but it was if another force was controlling him. He steeled himself and turned on the torch. The focused beam showed him that the entrance hall was roomy and eerie. An uneasy breeze blew down and grasped him with its chilly touch. Its fingers circled around his body, tenderly fondling every inch of him, pulling his shoulder's tight together as he huddled into himself for warmth. A staircase leading upwards caught his attention but he decided to explore the ground floor first. He raised an unsteady leg and stepped through the doors, partially closing it but his hand wouldn't let him push it hard against the latch

His mind told him not to move, but his body dragged him forward. Every step he took was met by a discordant shriek from the worm rotted floor boards. The floor got dustier, the floor boards got creakier and there was torn paint everywhere he looked. The vintage furniture was broken, chairs without legs and cabinets without doors - like a body with no soul. The air smelt as if it hadn't moved in years, festering like a stagnant pool of water. Harry shone his beam around, the only movement being the dust his sneakers had dislodged. He explored the ground floor. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if he touched it. Mould ate away at the walls and flooring, and cobwebs laced the boarded-up windows and the walls. He discovered a staircase that probably led to the basement but decided to explore it after the first floor.

Tentatively, he walked up the crumbling stairs. He was afraid they might give way whilst he was still climbing up them. He could almost feel the presence of ghosts surrounding him and a cold tingle ran down his spine as the threadbare curtains he could just about see in the corner of his eye rustled softly. He was absolutely petrified although he reassured himself that it was only the wind, however a part of him didn't quite believe that was right.

As he arrived upstairs he saw many medieval artifacts that didn't make much sense to him but he didn't dare touch them though. He made his way through a crepuscular hallway to a room which smelt like a rotting carcass. The smell instantly made him feel nauseous and he felt as if he would throw up at any moment. He instantly backed out and checked the other rooms. He discovered a huge library covered in dust and cobwebs but the tomes looked mighty expensive.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way downstairs. The basement was pitch black and the torch light did nothing to improve his sight. Carefully he made his way down the wooden steps and found himself in a huge space. The basement was actually a wine cellar. Harry read the labels with the torch light and realized that the most exclusive vintages of Europe were shelved in these wooden racks, trusted to the natural refrigeration of the soil behind the dense stone walls. Wine that would no doubt be extremely expensive. Wine his uncle would probably die to get a taste of. There were ancient brackets for candles every few feet, but it had been so long since they were used that there wasn't even any wax residue on them. Without any circulation of air, the stagnant aroma made it dungeonesque and the unsoftened echo of Harry's feet brought on a claustrophobic feeling.

There was a door at the end of the wine cellar and every sane part of Harry's body screamed at him not to go in. He ignored it and pushed it open. The small space was dark and extremely cold. In the center of the space was something he couldn't make out, not even with the torchlight. He stepped closer and when his gaze took in what it was, he silently screamed and ran.


	3. Chapter 3

He ran like he had never run in his life. In record time, he was back in his room and had thrown himself face down on his bed. He panted and struggled to breathe as the horrible image remained glued to the forefront of his mind. An open coffin with a body. He couldn't stop himself from trembling and pulled his ratty blanket over himself. He was shaking like a bloody leaf. So much for not being a coward.

When his breathing had relatively calmed down, he tried to rationalize what he'd just witnessed. Maybe it had been a hallucination. Maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him. No way in hell had that been a hallucination. That body in that coffin had been as real as he was. The body…now that he thought about it, he hadn't really gotten a proper look at it.

He screamed at himself. Was he even sane right now? Was he seriously thinking that he hadn't seen the bloody corpse properly and feeling curious about it? No way in hell was he in his senses right now. He pulled the blanket around himself tighter and tried to melt into the thin mattress. He closed his eyes, then opened them and then closed them again but the image remained imprinted inside his head. Going to that place had been a terrible idea. There was a reason people didn't stray near that place and he had thrown caution to the wind and gone inside. Seriously, what had he been expecting? Fairies and gold dust?

He spent the night alternating between cursing his own stupidity and trembling with terror. He was the glad when the sun rose and he was able to leave his bed and rush downstairs to the kitchen. Work was the perfect distraction. He was frying bacon in the kitchen when Dudley turned on the TV with the volume turned up to the highest setting. He picked up the spatula and was about to turn it when the sound of a scream made him jump. He dropped the spatula with a loud clatter as his heart jackrabbited in his chest,

"YOU'D BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN SOMETHING, BOY!"

He clutched his chest and tried to control his heartbeat and the overall trembling in his body. It had come from the TV. The sound had come from the TV. He was being absurd. It wasn't like the corpse could have followed him home now, could it? He pushed away the absurdly fearsome thought and picked up the spatula from the floor with a trembling hand,

"No, Uncle Vernon."

He hated that his voice held an undertone of fear and perhaps that was the reason his Aunt stepped into the kitchen and scrutinized all her precious glassware. Once satisfied, she turned her back to him and walked out of the kitchen with her nose in the air.

He was jittery the entire day. Every unexpected sound made him jump and his heart beat like crazy. He couldn't stop shaking and the tremors in his hands just wouldn't go away. His aunt seemed to have noticed it because she confronted him about it and straight out asked,

"Are you on drugs?"

Dudley, his cousin, who had been reclining on the couch and completely engrossed in his phone looked up and smirked,

"Saint Potter and drugs. That's an unlikely combination. He doesn't have the balls for it."

Harry gnashed his teeth but forced himself to remain calm and spoke,

"No, Aunt Petunia. I am not on drugs."

She gripped his jaw with her bony fingers and assessed his eyes. She had plenty of experience noticing signs because Dudley usually came home stoned every night. Once she was apparently satisfied, she released his chin and spoke,

"Your Uncle is bringing some guests over for dinner to celebrate the new deal. Here's the list of things I want you to get and the menu for tonight. Everything better be perfect or you know what your uncle is capable of."

Yeah, he knew perfectly well what his uncle was capable of. Harry took the list and the money and when his aunt had walked away. Dudley leaned forward and whispered,

"You'd better not be holding back on any of the good stuff."

He felt the distinctive urge to strangle him but repressed it and walked away with a sigh. His grocery run was fairly uneventful but on his way back a movie poster outside the theatre caught his attention and realization dawned over him. He nearly dropped the bags but common sense prevailed and he managed to haul the groceries back home before having another meltdown. He was leaning back against the counter as his mind raced. Could it really be possible? Maybe the body he'd seen wasn't a corpse…maybe he was bloody vampire. Corpses decomposed and rotted away but from the glimpse he'd caught before he'd mindlessly run away in fear had showed that there wasn't a hint of decomposition. That didn't make much sense. His aunt's shrill voice pulled him from his thoughts,

"Hurry up."

He shook away his thoughts and focused all his attention on preparing dinner and making sure it was perfect. He was tempted to add a dash of poison to the food but drew in a deep breath and stifled the desire. He absolutely hated his uncle but he hated his friends even more. He'd be doing everyone a favour by killing them off.

One time when he was about eleven, he had gone to Officer Jones to report that his uncle beat him up. He had learned the hard way about his uncle's friendship with the police officer. His uncle had taken the brass walking stick to his back when Jones had escorted him back home with a warning never to lie about good people like his uncle. Officer Jones had been the one who had suggested that he be admitted to St Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He shook away the thoughts and focused on getting dinner ready on time.

Once dinner was ready, he retreated up to his room so that his Aunt could take all the credit and play the part of the perfect hostess. He wrapped the blanket around himself and buried his head in the pillow as the thoughts returned. The vampire theory didn't make much sense. Vampires were supposed to sleep during the day not during the night…but…but…

But nothing. He had to get a closer look. He had to solve this bloody mystery otherwise he wouldn't be able to rest. One more time…just one more time. One proper look at that body or corpse or whatever the hell it was and he'd be able to put this matter to rest once and for all.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry snuck out of his room and made his way to Dudley's. The raucous laughter coming from downstairs told him that no one would be coming upstairs any time soon. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the horrible smelling room and made his way to the drawer in which Dudley kept his chains and bands. Rummaging through it, he found the cross, Dudley had worn when he had been going through his goth phase and exited the room as quickly as possible.

 

Once inside the safety of his room, he turned the cross over between his fingers and wondered if it would even work in the event that the body really turned out to be a vampire. He slid it over his neck and tucked it under his shirt. Now all he needed was garlic and a wooden stake. He internally scoffed at himself. Where the hell was he going to get a wooden stake and why the hell was he being so superstitious? He shook his head and laid back on the bed as he waited for the guests to leave and his uncle to drink himself into oblivion.

He woke up with a sharp inhale and realized that he had dozed off while he had been waiting. He looked at the time and realized that it was a little after midnight. The silence of the house was enough indication for him to know that he could leave now. He checked to make sure that the cross was still present around his neck. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and ran his fingers through his messy raven black locks. He looked paler than usual and the dark circles underneath his eyes were testament to the fact that he hadn't slept a wink in the last two nights. He rethought his decision. He could just go back to sleep and put this matter behind him…forget that he'd ever gone inside that Manor…forget that he had ever seen that body… He bit back the hysterical chuckle that threatened to escape from his lips. As if he could forget…as if his bloody curiosity would let him rest… He pulled on his jacket and steeling himself exited the room.

An hour later, he was standing in the cold wine cellar and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he shuffled nervously and struggled to summon up the strength to pass through that door. He drew in a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped into the bitterly cold and incredibly dark room. It took him all the will he possessed to put one foot in front of the other and approach the coffin. His body was covered in Goosebumps and he was drenched in a cold sweat. His hand was trembling uncontrollably, causing the torchlight to flicker. He pushed himself further and squeezed his eyes shut as he came within viewing distance.

It's just a body…It's just a body…He's not a vampire… He will not wake up and attack you…Damn it. He kept himself rooted to the spot and couldn't convince himself to open his eyes. He was not a coward. He wasn't a coward. He just had to open his eyes and take a look. His teeth chattered as the cold seeped into his bones and he wanted to wrap his arms around himself to keep himself warm but he had to hold the torch. He wanted to get out of this place but for that he needed to take a look first.

Just one look and he could leave…just one proper look and he could get back to the meagre warmth of his blanket and sleep. He was about to open his eyes but backed out at the last minute and took several staggering steps back. He cursed himself internally and stamped his feet on the stone floor in frustration. This was getting absurd.

He had no idea how long he just stood there but finally when his brain decided that enough was enough, he exhaled, closed his eyes and took a few steps forward again. He balled his hands into fists and willed himself to open his eyes but they absolutely refused to budge. Fears and doubts clouded his mind. He could die down here. He hadn't even lived properly yet,

"Damn it!"

He realized he'd said it out loud when his voice reverberated around the chamber or crypt or vault or whatever the hell it was and clamped a hand over his mouth.

He opened his eyes gradually and was absolutely transfixed by the sight in front of him. The guy didn't actually appear dead. Long black hair framed his face, standing out in stark contrast to the velvety red interior of the coffin. There wasn't the slightest hint of stubble along his jaw and it looked like he'd been shaved recently. High cheek bones and an aquiline nose gave him an almost aristocratic appearance. The cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pallor. The lips were as red as ever.

There wasn't a speck of dust on him which intrigued him. The black robes he wore were impeccable and flawless. It looked like he was simply sleeping, as if he might open his eyes at any moment. He pushed that idea away and looked closer. But there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. He bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He was tempted to pull his lips back and check for fangs but that would be pushing his luck. He took a step back from the coffin and tried to understand what the man was. He wasn't dead. There was something alive about him. Something that called to him at a deeper level and that bothered him. He looked at the man again and it grew fairly evident that his mind wasn't going to let him getsoon. peace any time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry manged to keep himself away from Riddle Manor for the next three nights, but they were the hardest nights he'd ever had to spend because it was like his soul had been caught on a fishing hook and the Manor was tugging at the line and trying to pull him towards itself. It was the fourth night in a row and he kept tossing and turning in bed. He kicked away the covers and fisted the sheets as his soul felt like it was being pulled from his body. Willing himself to breathe, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about anything but the Manor and the man in the coffin.

But his mind had a mind of its own and he couldn't get the images out of his head. He wasn't afraid anymore. His curiosity had taken a darker turn though and turned into morbid fascination. It would be so easy to give into what he was feeling and go back but whatever was pulling at him was pure evil and he didn't want to give into it.

By the seventh night, he was utterly breathless. It was like someone had clamped a hand over his mouth and nose and cut off his air supply. He struggled silently in bed, fighting to breathe, kicking his feet but the pressure on his air supply didn't let up. This was it. He had always known that curiosity would be the death of him and he had been so right. No, he couldn't die…not yet…not like this…He had so much to live for…No way was he going to die and leave his uncle all his money.

Fine…Fine…He would go back. He would go back to the Manor. As soon as he thought it, the pressure let up and he drew in several deep gulps of air. Damn it! He swung his legs off the bed, grabbed the torch and pulled on his jacket before sneaking out of the house and storming to the Manor. This had to end. He was so done with this.

He was utterly furious when he strode into the dark crypt. He walked straight to the coffin and saw the peacefully dead man or asleep vampire or whatever the hell he was and the sight got on his nerves. He balled his hands into fists and growled out,

"I have no idea who or what the hell you are, but you have to stop doing whatever you're doing to me and leave me alone."

He was so utterly furious that he walked away from the coffin and kicked the wall repeatedly to get his frustration out. When his foot started throbbing with pain and his breathing turned ragged, he slid to the floor and spoke with all the resentment he could muster,

"You can't just suffocate people to get them to come to you and end your bloody loneliness. That's what crazy people do."

He turned off the torch and closed his eyes. He was utterly beat, and the lack of sleep was catching up with him. He rested his head against the wall and drew in a deep breath,

"I don't understand what your deal is though. I mean you're not alive so you're clearly not human even though you look like one but you're not dead either so I'm guessing that you're a vampire or some other creature of the night. Maybe you could even be a werewolf, but I've seen that werewolves are hairy even in their normal forms and they don't dress the way you're dressed. So, vampire fits you."

He opened his eyes and looked at the coffin. He half expected the man or vampire…damn it…whatever he was to get up and talk to him but the silence in the crypt remained undisturbed and Harry started talking again,

"I wish I knew your name since it's so frustrating that I don't know what to call you in my head. You're not a man or a corpse and I'm not sure that you're even a vampire. I just know that you're alive even though your heart doesn't beat, and your skin is as cold as ice. You're alive."

Harry banged the back of his head against the wall gently and whistled a tune to fill the silence, soon enough he was snapping his fingers and humming it as the music played in his head. When he realized what he was doing, he stilled and the burst out into hysterical laughter,

"I was calling you crazy a few minutes ago and now look at me. I bet you're laughing your head off."

He pulled his knees up to his chest and curled up to accumulate as much warmth as possible,

"It's freezing cold in here, but I guess vampires like it cold and dark."

Harry opened his eyes and stared into the dark,

"I wonder what's wrong with you. Assuming you're a vampire, you should be awake at night and sucking humans dry but you're laying here in this coffin, right now. I wonder if vampires really exist. I wonder if you're even alive or I'm imagining all of this. Maybe I've finally lost my mind. For all I know, I'm talking to a bloody corpse instead of running to the police."

His eyelids drooped again with the weight of sleep and he curled up tighter,

"I'll research you tomorrow. For now, I'm just going to crash here for a little while. I hope you don't mind."

He snickered and answered his own question,

"Of course, you won't. You nearly killed me to get me to come here."

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep against the cold wall on the cold floor with only his jacket for protection against the biting chill.


	6. Chapter 6

He caught the last of his snores when he woke up and immediately cursed verbally as he jumped to his feet,

"Damn…"

He never overslept…well he hardly ever slept at all but today, today he was certain that he had slept a little too much even though the crypt was as dark and as cold as ever. He took a look at the coffin and saw the man as peacefully asleep as ever. Cursing verbally, he ran out the Manor and sure enough, it was bright and sunny out. He was in deep trouble. He hid his duplicate key in his shoes once he reached the edge of his block and hurried to the house. He had his hand on the knob and was just about to pull it open when his uncle pulled it open. His face was red with rage and Harry couldn't help but gulp as he saw the brass walking stick in his hand. Harry's mouth went dry and he let out a soft curse. He found himself frozen in place as his uncle stared at him furiously with his mean eyes,

"Where were you, boy?"

Harry's chest seized. His Uncle licked his cracked lips as he darted a glance at him then around the street, no doubt checking if any of the neighbours were watching. His bones ached as he remembered his last encounter with the walking stick. He hadn't had any broken bones, but he feared that this time, he wouldn't be so lucky. He took one step backward and his uncle hissed,

"Get inside."

Harry shuddered. For one second, he considered just running. Being penniless would be better than what his uncle was going to do to him in that house. Harry was afraid that his uncle would kill him today. He could see the angry, unhinged look on his face. It almost seemed like a monster's face: pasty, sallow skin with a sheen of sweat, pig-like black eyes, and a slash of a mouth revealing perfect teeth. He gestured with the stick for Harry to come to him.

"Get inside now, Boy!"

His barely contained anger made Harry's stomach churn. His uncle reached forward and grabbed his arm then. He yanked him up the stairs and Harry could already feel bruises blooming on his pale skin. He winced. He struggled to pull away, but it was futile. His uncle jerked him inside the house. Harry sprawled face-first on the wood floor of the foyer. The runner balled up beneath him. Its musty scent filled his nostrils. He flipped himself over, sneezing and gagging on the dust. His uncle locked the door and spun around to face him. He was wearing an ugly grin,

"Now, start talking."

Harry couldn't bring himself to speak since his throat was constricted. His uncle loomed over him. The stick held loosely at his side. Harry asked, nodding towards the stick,

"Could you put that away now?"

His uncle raised the gun up negligently. Then he raised it. Ice flowed through his veins. All he could see was the shining polished flash of the stick,

"Uncle Vernon…don't…please…"

That was all he got out before his Uncle swung. Harry jerked his head to the side and closed his eyes. But the blow didn't come. Harry let out a huge gasp of air. Realizing that he was on the ground before his uncle, he scrambled to his feet and took a few quick hops backwards. His uncle growled, his piggy eyes narrowing,

"Start talking, Boy."

It was a little difficult to control his rapidly beating heart and come up with a lie at the same time, but he had to say something,

"The door was unlocked so I went for a walk this morning, Uncle Vernon."

Harry gritted his teeth as his uncle trotted towards him. He tossed the walking stick aside and Harry tried to hide his relief. His large hands were flexing at his sides. It was like they had a mind of their own. They wanted to touch, to pound, to twist and push. Harry whispered,

"Please don't…Uncle Vernon…please…"

His uncle cooed as he stood inches away from him,

"You're a liar, Boy, and you know how much I hate lying."

Before Harry could think he was doing, he was running up the stairs to his room. He was about to slam the door shut when his uncle kicked it open. He held his belly as he laughed,

"You think you can run from me in my own house. I own you, Boy."

Harry shouted as he stumbled backwards.

"You can't…I won't let you do this to me anymore!"

His Uncle was advancing upon him. One of his fat fingers jabbed the air with every point he made.

"Let me tell you the way of the world, you little shit!"

Spittle flew from his mouth and spattered against Harry's cheeks,

"You don't get a say in what happens to you!"

Harry's back hit his closet door, the knob pressed into his back. He knew his statements were meaningless. His Uncle was in a mood and that extra hundred pounds and animal-like cunning served him better than Harry's fast reflexes. He cast around for something to defend himself with. His Uncle's soft gut was only six inches away. He could punch him. He reached blindly towards the top of his battered desk. His fingers scrabbled against the wood. Everything was too small or useless like paperclips and post-it notes. Harry screamed,

"Get the hell away from me!"

But his Uncle wasn't one to be denied. This was what happened every time. His big belly pressed against Harry's flat one. Harry thrust one hand against his Uncle's chest, but the older man used his greater weight to just hold Harry in place. His other hand reached uselessly towards the desk. He couldn't get to anything on it. All he had was his own body to rely upon. Harry roared as he raked his fingers across his Uncle's cheek.

The older man howled as red welts appeared. He brought up one meaty fist and slammed it against the side of Harry's head. Stars appeared before his eyes and he slumped against the door. Only his Uncle's body held him upright.

"You little shit! I'm going to kill you."

But of course, just like always, his Uncle didn't kill him. Instead, he left him battered and broken on his bedroom floor and rattled off the list of chores he wanted done. At least he hadn't used the walking stick and he was still in possession of his key. He chuckled weakly. Thank heavens for small mercies.


	7. Chapter 7

He couldn't stop imagining his uncle's face as he tenderized the steaks by pounding them with the mallet. He wanted to kill the man more than anything else and even though he knew he didn't have what it takes to steal a life, he consoled himself with the fantasies in which he successfully murdered him. He could probably write a book on it if he was serious about it. He contemplated on what the title could be and after a few minutes came up with it, "101 ways to murder your horrible uncle." He chuckled as he rubbed in the spices and placed the marinated steaks in the fridge.

Looking at the wall clock in the kitchen, he realized he still had more than an hour before he had to make dinner. A quick visit to the library wouldn't hurt…Ha! It would definitely hurt since he could barely stand let alone walk but he could probably brave it. He winced as he attempted to pull on his jacket and cursed verbally. His aunt piped up from her position on the couch,

"Language, Boy."

He managed to pull it on despite the pain and was sorely tempted to tell her to give that advice to her husband. Instead he spoke as politely as possible,

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

His aunt looked up from the magazine she was reading and asked sternly,

"Where are you off to?"

He zipped up his jacket with another wince and spoke,

"The library."

She raised her perfect eyebrow and scowled,

"Liar."

He didn't have the energy for this but if he misbehaved now, his aunt wouldn't let him go,

"You can send Dudley along."

She rested her hand over her heart and glowered at him,

"I will not allow my son to be in your horrible company."

Harry was about to point out that Dudley's company couldn't get any horrible but refrained and spoke,

"I'll be back in an hour, Aunt Petunia."

She huffed and returned to her magazine, so Harry took that as permission to go. He was out the door before she could change her mind. As he made his way to the library, there wasn't a part of him that wasn't aching. Sometimes he wondered if death was better than this life or if the money really was worth all this trouble. Three more months…Just three more…Everything was going to be fine then. He stepped into the library and greeted the Madam Pince before making his way to the only vacant computer. There was bound to be something about Riddle Manor in the library's archives. He typed in the keywords to conduct the search and waited for them to load. He realized that he was being ogled at by the girl sitting on the computer next to him. He smiled politely at her and she looked like she was going to swoon. Ignoring her, he turned his attention back to the screen and looked through the results that had popped up.

He didn't have the time to go through all of the articles so printing them made sense. He checked the tray and realized that he'd have to beg Madam Pince for papers. He had just risen up when the girl got up and extended her hand,

"Hi, I'm Ginny. We just moved here."

He looked at her hand for a moment before shaking it,

"I'm Harry, nice to meet you."

She giggled excitedly when he released her hand and the sound was just plain irritating. She wasn't horrible to look at her. In fact, with her long red hair and her slender body, she might even seem attractive to someone normal. He was seventeen and as far as he had come to know himself, he placed himself somewhere between asexual and demisexual. So, therefore, attraction was something he never felt. He had to get away from her before he said something rude. But then, another thought crossed his mind. His legs were aching anyway, why shouldn't he let Ginny do the begging?

"Umm…Ginny, could you get me some papers from Madam Pince?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she looked like she was about to explode. She shook her head numbly as if she couldn't quite believe he was talking to her,

"Of course, Harry. I'd be pleased to."

Harry flashed her his most charming smile and she ran off with another giggle. Once she was gone, he sank back into his chair and counted the results. There were six articles in total. He opened up the first article. A black and white photo of Riddle Manor popped up. Even from the picture, Harry could feel the wicked vibes. He shouldn't even be returning to the place after how much trouble he had landed in because of it. Harry's heart jumped to his throat when a hand landed on his shoulder and Ginny spoke a little too loudly,

"Why are you looking up that place?"

He resisted the urge to brush her hand away from his shoulder and spoke,

"Just some research."

She set the papers down on the table and smiled seductively. Somehow, he found that smile, creepier than the corpse in the coffin,

"Thanks a lot, Ginny. You're a life saver."

Ginny leaned closer to him and invaded his personal space. He was pretty sure it was against the rules and mentally begged Madam Pince to come over and scold them. He leaned back in his seat and Ginny rested her hand on his chest. He nearly winced because there was a fresh bruise there,

"Why don't you thank me properly and take me out for coffee sometime?"

Yeah right. Probably when hell froze over. He chuckled lightly and spoke,

"Sure."

Ginny's smile brightened, and Harry resisted the urge to sigh out in relief when she pulled her hand away from his chest and finally backed away,

"I'll see you around, Harry."

He nodded silently, and she gathered her things from her table and walked away before winking at him. He tried not to cringe at the gesture and schooled his features into a smile. After loaded the papers in the tray, he pressed print. It took a while but he felt a bit accomplished when he organized the papers and stapled them. He groaned softly when he got up from the chair. The pain was awful and just the thought of standing in the kitchen and making dinner worsened it.

He made his way out of the library and cursed when he realized that it was raining. He absolutely despised rain. Guess he'd have to beg Madam Pince after all. He made his way to the counter and after a lot of pleading, managed to get a resealable plastic bag for his papers.

Grumpily, he slouched his way through the rain, cursing the clouds and the water and everything else in the world. He was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the house. Pushing open the door, he toed off his wet sneakers in the hallway and made his way upstairs to his room to change into dry clothes. He deposited the packet of papers under the loose floorboard under his bed and then worked on ungluing his battered body from the soaked clothes with minimal pain.

Dinner went well since his relatives ignored him and his uncle didn't even look his way. After dinner, he was doing the dishes when he heard his uncle walk into the kitchen. He pretended not to notice his presence and focused on the task at hand. But his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest and he was absolutely terrified because he didn't have the fortitude to go through another round. He put the last plate in the cabinet and his uncle spoke,

"Go upstairs to your room."

The order was uttered in a low, even voice and Harry had difficulty making his legs work to carry it out. His uncle followed him up the steps and once he was inside his bedroom, his uncle spoke,

"From today, I am going to lock the door to your room every night."

He could only nod before his uncle slammed the door in his face and he heard the distinctive click of the lock.

Damn it!


	8. Chapter 8

Harry balled his hands into fists and sunk his nails into his palm to stop himself from banging on the door or causing some other damaged to the room. He slumped back on the bed and listened to the rain pouring down outside. Well, maybe he wouldn't have been able to get out tonight anyway. He knelt down beside the bed and pulled out the packet from his loose floorboard. He grabbed his notebook and a pen from the table and pulled the blanket over himself and settled down on the bed before opening it and pulling out the papers.

The first article was the same one that had that black and white photo of the Manor. It was dated sixty years ago and he began reading through it. When he reached the end of the article, there was a picture of a man…the owner of the Manor…Tom Riddle…He gasped and dropped the paper. He looked like the man in the coffin…Infact Harry was fairly certain that he was the man in the coffin except for the hair. The man in the picture had short hair quite different from the man in the coffin. He picked up the papers and switched to the next article and read through it and then the next until he had read through all of them.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard as he jotted down what he had learnt from the articles in the notebook.

  1. The Manor belonged to the Riddle family
  2. The Riddle family comprised of Tom Riddle, son of Thomas and Mary Riddle
  3. He belonged to a rich and privileged family
  4. He was extremely snobbish and rude to the townsfolk because of his upbringing
  5. He ran away from home and married a tramp's daughter, Merope Gaunt
  6. He returned to the Manor and claimed that he had been lied to by Merope
  7. He had been found dead along with his parents in the drawing room by the maid
  8. Cause of death was unknown, and it appeared that all three of them had just dropped dead.
  9. The mystery of their death remained unsolved and became the talk of the town
  10. Tom Riddle was buried with family in the local graveyard



He paused and reread the articles to ensure that he hadn't missed anything before going over the points repeatedly to make some sense of them. According to the information he had gathered, Tom Riddle was dead, and he had been buried in the local graveyard. If the man in the coffin was Tom Riddle, then someone must have moved him from the graveyard to that crypt under the Manor. He'd definitely have to pay a visit to the graveyard tomorrow.

He had a thousand questions running through his brain and he didn't have the answer to a single one of them. The sudden deafening sound of thunder made his heart lurch in his chest and it took a moment for his heartbeat to return to normal. When his heart had calmed down considerably, he slid the papers back in the packet and got out of the bed to put them back under the floorboard along with the pen and the notebook. His head was exploding with pain along with every inch of his body. He buried his face in the pillow and willed himself not to think anymore but it was almost impossible. He pulled the covers over his head and shivered uncontrollably.

_Please don't let me catch a cold…Please don't let me catch a cold…Please don't let me catch a cold…_

He couldn't afford a cold right now but it seemed he was just on the verge of catching one. The rain was still pouring outside and he cursed verbally as he curled up under the blanket and wrapped his arms around himself. He had to think about something to distract himself…so he thought about the only thing dominating his mind…Riddle Manor.

The first thing that puzzled him was how had they been murdered…because their deaths were extremely disturbing. No physical cause of death had been found and the look on Tom Riddle's corpse had been defined as that of utter horror. If that wasn't creepy, he didn't know what was. The second thing that bothered him was who had murdered them and why? The first possible suspect that came to his mind was Merope, the woman Tom Riddle had eloped with and then most probably abandoned since he had returned to the Manor and claimed that she had lied to him. She might have killed him and his parents to get her revenge. But that was just an assumption. Only one article had mentioned Merope and Harry knew that he had to find out more about her.

He hugged the pillow close to himself and sneezed. Damn it, he had a cold now. It was still raining outside and Harry hated it, absolutely hated it. He clutched the blanket closer to himself and his mind drifted back to the man in the coffin. Was he really Tom Riddle? The resemblance was uncanny but something wasn't fitting in and he couldn't put his finger on it. The man in the coffin wasn't dead. He was anything but dead.

He curled up tighter and cursed his uncle, his aunt and Dudley. He hoped they burned in hell for treating him lesser than an animal. He definitely couldn't afford a cold right now because he had to visit the graveyard to see the Riddle family graves and then he had to go back to the library and look up Merope Gaunt. Then there was the library of Riddle Manor itself. Harry was certain he would find something of use there. But on top of everything, he needed to make a duplicate key for the lock on his bedroom door. On second thoughts…he jumped out of bed and pulled out the small packet he stored his money in. When he counted the money, he realized that he had more than enough saved for a lockpick set. At this moment, it was the best investment he could make. Who knew, his uncle could change the locks at any time so wasting money on a duplicate key was unwise. Finalizing his decision, he pushed the packet back underneath the floorboard and climbed back in bed. As soon as he closed his eyes he fell into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares of him trying to escape from Riddle Manor while he was chased by the corpses of Thomas, Mary and Tom Riddle.


	9. Chapter 9

He was very very pleased with the weight in his jacket pocket. There were very rare occasions when he was happy, and this was certainly one of them. He whistled and hummed the tune of his favorite song all the way to the graveyard. He only stopped whistling when he reached it. Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard almost like it was a prison. Moss-laden marble pillars stood as despairing guards on either side of the threshold. Behind the ancient wrought-iron gates were rows upon rows of crumbling gravestones, their engraved epitaphs bathed in the evening light. Gnarled trees hunched over most of the expanse, plunging the rest in shadow. The place echoed with painful grief and the emptiness of heartfelt loss. There was a saying that if you don't have anyone to mourn upon, then you mustn't disturb the peace that hovers above the death bed of many or you'll be haunted. He snorted to himself. He was already being haunted by a bloody man in a coffin, he doubted anything in here could top that.

The graveyard should have been spooky and filled him with chills, walking amongst the bones of all the town's dead. Yet, as he made his through the path, he had time to admire the ivy that crept over the autumnal ground and paused to read the inscriptions that would soon be stolen by the freeze-thaw of another winter. The ground had a softness that would be gone in just a few weeks more, frozen as hard as the stones it supported.

The gravel crunched underneath his feet as he made his way through the path that weaved through the maze of graves. Gravestones lined the eerie graveyard, some recently placed, whereas others, cracked and crumbling. Mould covered the engravings dedicated to the dead, trees leaning towards the stones, branches reaching out to each other. The smell of old stone filled the dry air, weeds covering the graves of the dead, loved ones long since stopped visiting.

He pulled out his notebook from inside his pocket and checked the names once again, Thomas, Mary and Tom Riddle. Where were they? He couldn't possibly search the entire graveyard. There must be thousands of graves here. He tapped the notebook to his knee and chewed on his lip as he contemplated whether he should visit the undertaker's shack. He'd definitely be able to guide him, but the man was known to be a bit psychotic all over the town. Well, he reckoned that anyone who worked such a horrible job had the right to be a bit psychotic. Finalizing his decision, he started making his way to the rundown shack located at the far end of the graveyard.

The shack sat like a timid mouse under the sprawling boughs of an ancient oak. It had the look of a poorly planned enterprise gone badly wrong. The walls of rough sodden planks were haphazardly wonky allowing brilliant streams of sunlight to crisscross the hut like a crazy tic-tac-toe board. Dirt and moss clung to the grooves of the corrugated iron roof that jutted out, overhanging the walls by a good two feet on every side. The sight forced him to reconsider his decision but drawing a deep breath, he stepped forward and knocked on the door. For a moment, there was no reply. Harry read the moss-covered nameplate on the door and read "Argus Filch." Harry knocked again and after a minute, he heard grumbling and a cat meowing on the other end. Soon enough, the door was forced open and Harry came face to face with a rheumatic looWhat king man with hunched-shoulders and a hunchback. He had a horrible, pouchy and pasty face and bulging, pale eyes, along with sunken, veined cheeks. He had thin grey hair and when he spoke, his voice had a wheezy quality to it,

"What do you want?"

Harry looked down at the cat he was holding in his arms and looked up to meet the man's gaze again,

"Umm…I wanted to know where the graves of the Riddle family are located?"

The man scowled at him suspiciously for a moment before speaking,

"What the hell do you want with them graves?"

He noticed the notebook in his hand and glared at him,

"Are you one of 'em reporters?"

Harry shook his head and spoke,

"No, I'm doing some research for an assignment."

He rubbed his chin before grinning. Harry resisted the urge to cringe at the sight of those yellowed teeth,

"You're probably one of 'em rich brats, aren't you? Well, you'll have to pay up if you want to know where they're located."

Harry pushed his hands into the pocket of his jacket and ran his finger over the packet. He only had about five quids left. But he knew that he didn't have the time to explore the entire graveyard, so he spoke,

"How much?"

Filch took a step closer to him and muttered,

"Whatever you're willing to offer."

Harry smirked as an idea crossed his mind,

"Two quids but I want to know the location of the Gaunt family graves as well."

Filch grinned,

"Make it three quids and I'll think about it."

Harry pursed his lips as he thought and then extended his hand,

"Deal."

Filch grabbed his hand and spoke,

"Deal."

He stepped aside and spoke,

"Lead the way, Mr. Undertaker."

Filch closed the door to his shack and locked it before making his way over the path. Harry felt his heartbeat speeding up as he followed him. He was finally going to find out whether it was Tom Riddle in that crypt under the Manor or not. Filch led him to the center of the graveyard and Harry saw a towering marble headstone. A large striking statue of the winged Angel of Death stands beside the headstone holding a raised scythe in its right hand. Upon closer inspection he found that the names of Thomas Riddle, Mary Riddle and Tom Riddle were written on the front in descending order and had the dates of their birth and death. The Riddle family name was displayed on the headstone's side. He looked down at the graves and asked,

"Could have anyone have dug out a corpse?"

Filch snorted,

"Are you in yer senses, boy? Why would anyone dig up a corpse?"

Harry stared at the graves and thought, why indeed. There didn't seem to be a logical reason for moving Tom Riddle from the grave to the crypt under the Manor. He jotted down the dates in his notebook and examined the headstone again to see if he had missed any clue. When he was satisfied that he hadn't, he spoke,

"Where's the Gaunt family buried?"

Filch laughed as he started leading him away,

"Not the Gaunt family, just Marvolo Gaunt."

Harry wrote down the name in his notebook and asked,

"What about the rest of the family?"

Filch grunted,

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?"

Harry resisted the urge to stamp his feet in frustration. He hadn't gotten an inch closer to solving this bloody mystery. If anything, he had another character to investigate now. Filch came to a halt in front of a non-descript grave and spoke,

"Here, now cough up my payment."

Harry bent down beside the tiny weathered, moss-covered tombstone and tried to make out the inscription. Grabbing a jagged rock from nearby, he used it to scratch away the moss and finally found that he was able to read the name and the date of death. What made him curious though was the small snake that had been etched in the stone exactly over the name. He made a rough picture of it in the notebook and jotted down the date of death before getting up and holding out the money. He felt a slight twinge in his heart for parting with his measly savings, but he buried it. An incredibly pleased looking Filch snatched from his hand and began walking away as he spoke over his shoulder,

"Pleasure doing business with ya."

Harry stood there for a minute more, staring at the snake and waiting for the meaning to miraculously dawn on him but that didn't happen and so he made his way out of the graveyard feeling more tangled than he had been on his way in.


	10. Chapter 10

The one great thing that he'd discovered about his uncle locking him up in his room every night was the reduced amount of beatings he received. Now, normally, his uncle only used him as a punching bag when he was drunk but ever since he'd started locking his door, he couldn't unlock it when he was tipsy and usually ended up taking out all his frustration on the door before stumbling back downstairs. Harry hadn't had a chance to use the lockpick set yet because every night he'd been falling asleep while he waited for his uncle to pass out and he awoke close to dawn which meant that he had no time whatsoever to return to the Manor.

He was determined to change that tonight. The amount of sleep he'd been getting and the absence of beatings had definitely done wonders because for the first time in years he felt relatively pain free. He remembered his time at Saint Brutus and winced at the horribly vivid memory of being beaten to a pulp almost every single week. Well his Uncle was a bloody Saint compared to the teachers there.

He pushed up from the bed and pulled the set out from under the mattress. Careful not to make any noise, he began to work on the lock. It was his first time and he wasn't as fast as he wanted to be but they said that practice maketh a man perfect so he wasn't really that distressed. There were many more nights to come and he was sure by the time he was going to free from this place, he would be fast enough to become a proper burglar, if he chose to be one…maybe even a serial killer…Ha…He'd probably murder his relatives in the most gruesome way possible.

The click of the lock giving way made him grin and he grabbed his bag and his sneakers, pushed the set into his bag and began tiptoeing out of the room. Getting out of the house was a breeze and he couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled out of his lips as he breathed in the fresh, cold air and started making his way to the Manor.

It took him less than half an hour to get there and once inside, he directly made his way to the library he'd discovered instead of going down to the crypt. Dust collected everywhere as far as the could see, spider webs wove loosely around books, dirtied shelves, and stands, a candelabra hung from the cracked ceiling. The ground was littered with dirt, glass, books, and torn paper. Dust floated lazily in the air making it difficult for him to breathe, and every step put more of it in to the air. Harry coughed and covered his mouth and nose with his forearm. He should have brought a scarf or something. Removing his forearm from his face, he began pushing away the cobwebs and began looking through the old volumes with the torch light.

He cursed verbally as he slammed down another thick volume that consisted of nothing but poetry. It had been an hour and so far he'd had no luck. On top of that, his flash light was beginning to dim and he knew he didn't have much time left. He rose to his feet and was about to exit the library when he noticed a small cabinet in the farthest corner.

He hesitated before making his way to it and tried to open up the drawers but it was locked. Oh, this was getting good. He could feel the blood thrumming in his veins with exhilaration as he pulled out the set from his bag and checked the condition of the lock. There wasn't any visible rust and it looked in pristine condition. Excellent. It took him almost fifteen minutes to get the lock open but he was out of the world with joy when it did.

He pulled open the drawer and came across a bundle of thin books, strapped together by a leather belt. Pulling it out, he undid the belt and checked the topmost one. Bound in red leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin volume smelled faintly of pipe tobacco and dust. The pages within were brittle and what remained of the book's original stitching was barely holding it together.

A faint scrawl on the inside of the cover declared that the journal once belonged to Tom Riddle. Yesss, he'd hit the jackpot. A journal was the best thing he could have hoped to come across. The first page began in the middle of a sentence, suggesting that either there were pages missing or that there was another volume before this one. His gaze immediately went to the bundle and he grinned. He'd definitely hit the jackpot now all he needed now was to read through them and find out more about the enigma that was Tom Riddle. He was sure that if the guy had been a vampire or even remotely connected to dark magic, he would have mentioned it in his journal.

He was absolutely giddy with excitement when he pushed the journals into his bag and made his way downstairs to visit the crypt. So far, he'd decided that he'd call the corpse in the coffin, Tom, unless something suggested otherwise. When he entered the crypt, he was immediately assaulted by the bitter cold and utter darkness, but he was no longer unnerved by it. He deposited his bag by the door and walked closer to the coffin to see Tom, peacefully asleep and in the same position as ever. Sometimes he just pitied him. To be alive and stuck in the cold and dark was probably as bad as it got,

"Hi, Tom."

He paused, half expecting there to be a reply but none came so he kept talking like he would talk to an old friend. Not that he had any old friends…well he didn't have any friends at all. Saint Brutus hadn't exactly had the friendly kind of atmosphere unless you counted all the boys that used each other to get off. He shuddered at the thought and spoke,

"I've been researching you…well I hope it's you because the guy in the picture looks an awful lot like you. I'm sorry if your name isn't Tom but I'm sick of referring to you as a corpse or a body."

He paused and made his way to where he'd sat the previous time he'd been here. Crossing his legs, he settled down on the ground against the wall and spoke,

"You have no idea how much trouble I got in when I fell asleep here last time."

Wrapping his arms around himself, he tried to fend off the cold and failed completely,

"You know I went to visit your grave a couple of days back. Well yours and your parents…"

He paused and cursed,

"I'm not even sure if you're Tom Riddle but anyways…I found nothing there… I visited Marvolo Gaunt's grave too. The article mentioned that you were married to Merope Gaunt. I haven't had a chance to look her up yet, but I think that she was the one that killed you and your parents because you left her. Anyways that was the reason I went looking for her grave but she isn't buried here. I literally have no idea how she's related to Marvolo Gaunt but…"

He burst into laughter,

"I found your journals today. Can you imagine that? I found all of your journals and you know, I can't wait to read them. I'm pretty sure that you'd have mentioned her in them, after all, she was your wife once. Anyways, I might not visit you the next couple of days, so I hope you don't miss me too much."

He paused and whispered softly,

"By the way, did you miss me? I'm assuming that I'm annoying the hell out of you right now and I irritated you so much the last time I was here that you didn't even try to reach out to me. Not that I'm not grateful to you for not suffocating me but I kind of liked how desperate you were to get me here."

Harry chuckled and pulled his jacket up over his nose to warm it,

"Well…now whether you like my company or not, you're stuck with me until I solve this mystery."

He checked the time, he still had an hour before he had to be back,

"Oh, would you look at that. I still have an hour to annoy you. I bet you're wishing you could rip my tongue out or your head off but I'm really not that talkative usually. I don't know, something about you just makes me want to drive you crazy. I guess it has something to do with how peaceful you look."

Harry couldn't stop himself, be ranted about everything and nothing, making sure not to let anything from his personal life slip into his words. He wasn't about to whine about his problems to a corpse. He had no idea where the hour went so he grabbed his bag which was now heavy with the weight of the journals and spoke,

"Bye, Tom. Try not to miss me too much."

And with that, he sauntered out of the crypt, even though he knew that Tom couldn't see him.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry bit back a silent cry as he attempted to get up. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't hurting like hell. So, he did the only thing that gave him some relief. He curled up tighter and wrapped his arms around himself as he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but the pain.

The past three days, he'd been going through the journals and he started going over everything he had learnt through them. The first thing that he'd learnt was that Tom Riddle was a snobbish, narcissistic bastard who held himself in high regard. It was obvious from the way he wrote about himself that he was well aware of his good looks and charms and thought himself above everyone else in town. He had mentioned a woman Cecilia several times but never wrote about what she was to him. Harry figured that she was his love interest possibly.

His curiosity, however had been piqued when Tom had clearly expressed his disdain for the Gaunts in one entry and Harry was forced to wonder what had compelled him to run off with someone he disliked. At first, he'd thought it might have been love but he had been proven horribly wrong as he had read through the subsequent entries.

Merope Gaunt had entered into his life by offering him a glass of cold water on a hot summers day and the way Tom had written the events after that clearly showed how utterly infatuated he'd become with her. Love at first sight was a possibility but as the entries had proceeded Harry began to grow suspicious that something darker was at play here. People didn't just fall in love like that and the entries suggested something bordering on obsession so what had caused Tom who had disliked the Gaunts to grow enamoured with one of them to the point that he ran away with her to marry her and left his estate and wealth behind.

The part that interested him was that they had moved to London. London was at an hour's drive from here, but Harry imagined that it must have taken longer by carriage in those times. He'd nearly gagged as he'd read the entries that succeeded their relocation to London because they had been filled with nothing but praises for Merope. She'd must have been pretty if Tom was so utterly besotted with her.

The dubious but beautiful love story had taken a horrible turn when after a year Merope had revealed that she was pregnant. Now, that should have made Tom love her more, but he hadn't, and the entries had been filled with nothing but pure rage and hate and spoke of enchantments and black magic.

Black magic…that had seemed more believable than the icky obsessive love that Tom had had for Merope. He couldn't understand Merope's motives behind it though. Maybe she'd loved Tom and had known that she wouldn't be able to get someone as rich and handsome as him, so she had bewitched him, or she had been taking revenge on the rich, snobbish brat that had detested her family. What intrigued him was why she had stopped? Had she thought that he would love her because of their unborn child and would stay with her. Or maybe she hadn't stopped, and Tom had just grown immune to her spells or whatever the hell she used on him.

Whatever the case, he'd felt bad for Merope when Tom had abandoned her in a fit of rage and left her in London. Harry wasn't sure whether she'd really been pregnant or lied about it and according to the entries Tom had thought the same. He'd wrote about it as "one last desperate effort by the tramp to stop him from leaving". Upon his return, his parents had accepted him readily and Tom had gone back to his characteristic snobbish attitude.

Harry groaned when he attempted to move but he couldn't just spend the night on the floor. Calling his uncle every foul name he could think of, he crawled to the bed and managed to pull himself over it. Grabbing the water bottle from the side table, he gulped it down in one and raised his shirt up to examine the dark bruises blossoming on the pale skin of his chest and abdomen. Even when his uncle was drunk, he tried not to leave any visible bruises on his hands or his face and Harry was certain he did that to protect his own reputation. He let go of the hem of his shirt and pulled the blanket over himself.

His mind drifted back to Merope and something about her niggled at his brain. Maybe she really had been pregnant. Had she given birth to the child? He wanted to grab his notebook from under the bed but his body was in no mood to move until dawn and so he nuzzled his head in his pillow and tried to remember the date that Tom Riddle Senior and his family had been murdered. It had been some sixteen years after Tom had abandoned Merope. Now, if he was thinking right, Merope had given birth to the child and that child…the boy had come back to take revenge and murdered his father and grandparents using black magic that he had learnt from his mother. If his assumption was correct, then the chances that the man in the crypt under Riddle Manor wasn't Tom Riddle but his son, were incredibly high.

His fingers curled into the blanket as he pulled it closer to himself. He was working on assumptions here. He needed to know what had happened to Merope. He had yet to look her up in the library, but he doubted that he'd find anything there. He wanted to yank his hair out in frustration because he felt so tangled. He almost wished that he'd never set foot in that bloody Manor.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry was truly and utterly exhausted as he searched every combination of keywords to get something…anything about Merope Gaunt or the address he'd found in the journal but so far, he'd had no luck and he silently cursed the computer. He'd officially hit a dead end and despair welled in his heart as he thought about living with the unsolved mystery. He'd never find peace. He wanted to go to London to investigate the address, but he barely had any money and his aunt wouldn't allow him to take a day trip. He was about to get up when everything went dark as a pair of hands covered his eyes. He wasn't in the bloody mood for this. He'd seen Ginny eyeing him from across the library ever since he'd stepped in and he was very certain that she was the one currently standing behind the chair and covering his eyes,

"Guess who?"

Harry wanted to scoff at her. Who else could that irritating voice possibly belong to? He hated acting all sweet and innocent, but he couldn't voice what was going through his head and instead he spoke,

"I can't guess."

Ginny giggled, and Harry wanted to plug up his ears at the infuriating sound,

"Come on, Harry. At least try."

He seriously wanted to bang his head on the table then, but he refrained and instead spoke in his most charming voice,

"I admit my defeat."

That seemed to have pleased Ginny even more because she pulled away her hands and came to stand between his legs. He craned his neck to look over his back, hoping that Madam Pince would see it. Ginny grabbed his chin and made him face her. She was dressed in a pair of tight skinny jeans and a pink sweater that clung to her petite frame and left nothing to the imagination. Harry had never seen anyone so covered yet unbearably bare before. She might as well just parade around in her lingerie. Ginny giggled again, and Harry blinked to focus on her face. She licked her painted lips and spoke,

"See anything you like?"

Harry wanted to shake his head and shout out, "Hell, no." But that wouldn't be the gentlemanly thing to do. He scooted back in his seat to put some distance between himself and her and spoke,

"Umm…"

She stroked his cheek, leaned over him and whispered,

"You promised to take me out."

Harry wanted to melt through the seat then because the closeness was just getting intolerable,

"Umm...yeah…I did but I don't have my wallet now."

Harry commended himself on his quick thinking. Ginny frowned for a second and Harry internally cheered but then her smile returned, and she spoke,

"Don't worry. I'm loaded. Just come with me."

Harry internally groaned. He could see no way out of this without being rude. He checked his watch and realized that he had an hour, so he rose to his feet and Ginny took a step back to give him space. He picked up his notebook, stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket and stood back,

"Lead the way."

Ginny beamed like she'd won the lottery. Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he followed her out of the library and when Ginny led him to the hot red Porsche Cayman, his jaw dropped open,

"This is yours?"

Ginny pulled out the key fob and unlocked it with a pleased smirk,

"I think you like my car better than me."

Harry shook out of his momentary daze and looked up at Ginny,

"No…"

Ginny opened the door and slid into the driver's seat and Harry hesitated,

"I don't think…"

Ginny pulled down the window, leaned over and spoke,

"You're cute enough to kidnap but that doesn't mean that I'll do it. Get in."

Ginny opened the door for him and Harry got in. They were off as soon as he closed the door. The drive was pure torture because even though Harry liked the car, he despised the company. He didn't miss the way Ginny brushed her fingers over his thigh from time to time. Maybe it would have been enough to arouse some normal guy, but he remained utterly unaffected by it,

"You know all the girls talk about you?"

Harry stared out the window and tried to sound as interested as possible,

"Yeah? What do they say?"

Ginny didn't speak, and Harry thought that she probably thought it seemed dramatic, but it wasn't. It was just plain annoying. He knew she wanted him to ask her again and spoke,

"Come on, Ginny. Tell me."

Ginny turned to look at him and smirked,

"They say that you're bi."

Harry failed to understand how his sexuality was anyone's concern or how it was gossip worthy. He leaned back in his seat and wondered whether he should lie to her and tell her that he was gay but that wouldn't be very helpful to his cause besides the fact that Ginny was rich and owned a car changed a lot of things. Before Ginny had rudely interrupted him, he'd been thinking about going to London to find out more about Merope Gaunt. Tom had mentioned an address in his journal and that was his only lead at the moment. But he hadn't had the resources to pursue that lead before. Circumstances had changed now, and Harry was absolutely jubilant that luck had decided to favour him. He could probably sweet talk Ginny into taking the trip with him. He repressed a shiver when he thought about all the things he would have to do to make her enamoured with him, but they were going to be worth it in the end.

Ginny snapped his fingers and Harry saw a hint of unease on her face,

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have talked about that the way I did…It's just that I'm curious…I mean everyone's curious because you never date anyone in town and you're the mysterious hottie that everyone lusts after…"

Harry mentally banged his head against the wall at Ginny's rantings and spoke,

"No, it's fine. I've just never found anyone interesting enough to make an effort to get to know them but…"

He reached forward and traced the back of her hand with his finger. Ginny's cheek reddened and her breath hitched. Harry could see that she was fighting to keep her eyes on the road as he continued to stroke random patterns on the back of her hand. She asked breathlessly,

"But what?"

Harry flashed his most charming smile and spoke,

"I think you're worth the effort."

He pulled his hand away from hers as she parked in the parking lot of the local café. Ginny beamed at him and squealed out,

"I'm so excited for our date."

Wait, what? Date? When the hell had it turned into a bloody date? He didn't voice all those things though and instead spoke,

"Me too."

Ginny got out of the car and Harry followed suite. The so-called date was horrible, but he remained perfectly polite. He pulled out the chair for her, let her order for both of them and laughed at all her terrible jokes and by the end of it, he could see how absolutely smitten Ginny was with him just by looking into her eyes. He knew that she enjoyed the illusion of control he gave her over himself and when they exited the café, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before waving her good bye and promising to meet with her again. Oh, he'd definitely be meeting her. Ginny didn't know how fundamental she had unknowingly become in his quest to solve the mystery. As he walked back home, he thought about how he was going to convince his aunt to allow him to make the day trip to London.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been two weeks since the day he had decided to use Ginny as a means to an end and since that day he had been meeting Ginny almost every other day. He had a knack for reading people and he could do it easily as reading a book. And reading Ginny was easier than reading a street sign. He'd been to her house…well calling it a house was an understatement. It was bloody huge. She was the youngest of the Weasleys and the only sister of five brothers. Attention seeking was the best way to describe her and since she never got any of it at home, he made sure to give her plenty of it just to get her hooked on him.

He knew he should be feeling bad about using her, but he didn't. It was just the way he was. When it came to getting something he wanted, he was absolutely ruthless. And anyways it wasn't like Ginny was some innocent virgin. In the short span that she had moved here, she had slept with almost every guy in town…almost…Dudley was still bitter about not catching her attention, but Harry was happy to hand her over to him once he was done with her.

Sometimes he was bothered by how stone cold he was, then he thought about everything life had put him through and that justified it. The new phone Ginny had gotten him buzzed on the ground beside him and he picked it up to see that it was a text from her. He opened it up and realized that it was a picture of her nearly naked in bed with only the sheets covering her up. The message accompanying it read,

_Wish you were here. Missing you._

Harry cringed and deleted it almost immediately before speaking to  _"Not Tom"_. That's what he had decided to call him after he'd discovered that that he wasn't Tom Riddle but his son,

"Ginny just sent me a picture of her nearly naked and in bed. What would be an appropriate reply to that, Not Tom?"

He wasn't expecting a reply, so he snorted,

"Yeah, there's definitely no appropriate reply to that. Do you think she'll mind it if I tell her to go to hell?"

Yeah, she would definitely mind that. He typed out a very long text filled with her praises and telling her that he missed her before sending it,

"Hey, do you think I'll go to hell for lying?"

There was only silence and Harry rested his head against the wall,

"Well, you wouldn't know, would you? You haven't been to hell yet. You're probably just hanging between this world and the next."

An idea struck him at his own words and he pulled up the browser on the phone and exclaimed,

"Yes!"

He jumped to his feet and made his way to the coffin. Carefully he touched Not Tom's cheek before whispering,

"You're in a coma, aren't you?"

Something about the skin on skin contact made a pleasant shiver run down his spine. It was something he'd never felt before, not even when he'd touched him that day and Harry grew bolder and gently touched the long, dark hair with his finger,

"I'm not sure whether you're a vampire but you're definitely in a coma."

He pulled away his hand but something inside him craved more of it and he mentally kicked himself for it. He was definitely losing his mind. He returned to his spot by the wall and his phone vibrated again,

"Damn it! She won't even leave me alone at night. Do you see what I'm going through for you?"

He checked it and gagged at the number of hearts and kisses. He typed out a quick good night with more hearts and kisses than her message had contained and powered off the phone,

"Do you dream about freedom from this place?"

Harry revelled in the silence before speaking,

"I do. I dream about leaving this wretched town and never coming back. Life is going to be so great when I leave here. Just two more months and I'll be free…I'll never come back here."

It felt good voicing that out loud. It made it all the more real and made him believe that it wasn't a dream. Harry closed his eyes and sighed,

"I wish I could see you awake before that. As much as I like annoying you, I really do want to see you free. I know what it feels like to be trapped in the cold and the dark, with no way out. It's suffocating."

Harry couldn't help but laugh,

"You know, sometimes I wonder what your eye colour would be. The picture of your dad in the newspaper was black and white so I couldn't make out the colour and I haven't come across a picture of your mother yet. I hope I'll find one at the address your dad mentioned. But anyways, I think brown or black eyes would go great with your hair."

He chewed on his lips as he mused,

"And sometimes, I wonder what you would sound like. Would your voice be brittle or gravelly or maybe gruff or low pitched…Your voice is something I'm really curious about…well there are other things that I'm curious about too…like the fact that you might have fangs…That would be pretty awesome but maybe that just seems awesome in my head. Maybe, you'll be utterly terrifying in real and kill me as soon as you wake up. You know kill two birds one stone. You'll feed your years of hunger by draining me dry and you'll get to have your payback for annoying the hell out of you."

He looked at the time on the brand-new Rolex, Ginny had gifted him and rose to his feet,

"Well, I'll have you know that I have no intentions to die. I plan to live a very long life without any limitations so if you're plotting something like that then you'd better get that out of your head or I won't wake you up."


	14. Chapter 14

Harry resisted the urge to gnash his teeth as he sat with Ginny in her car while they drove to London. If he had to listen to one more Justin Beiber song, he was going to jump out of the bloody car or strangle Ginny. It was absolute torment, so he leaned forward and turned off the music,

"Ginny, do you believe in vampires?"

Ginny turned to look at him and beamed,

"I wish they existed. I wouldn't think twice before running off with Edward."

What the actual hell? Harry resisted the urge to groan because this was even worse than Justin Beiber. Ginny gossiped non-stop about twilight and Harry was beginning to regret ever bringing vampires up. He'd been so very wrong that he'd thought that he could have a serious conversation with her. Thank God he had never watched that movie, so he didn't have to say much. Ginny did all the talking and he smiled and chuckled at all the right times.

Convincing his aunt to let him go had been a piece of cake but the trouble had been getting Ginny to get him a two hundred quid voucher for a spa day that included lunch and tea for his aunt. He shivered when he remembered that he was supposed to be giving her a proper kiss today. How was he going to pull that off? He had no idea.

Harry handed her the slip, he'd written down the address on and spoke,

"Could you take me here?"

Ginny looked down at it and pouted,

"You said we were going to have fun first."

Harry reached forward and cupped her cheek,

"I just want to get this out of the way, so we can enjoy the rest of our day."

Ginny nodded dazedly as Harry pulled away his hand and smiled.

Half an hour later, they were parked outside a dilapidated looking building that seemed like it was going to come down any second,

"Wait in the car, I'll be right back."

Ginny looked like she wanted to argue but didn't and Harry ran his finger over her lips,

"Mmmm, I can't wait to taste these."

Ginny's gaze grew unfocused again and Harry whispered,

"Wait right here."

Ginny nodded, and he stepped into the building. The journal hadn't mentioned a flat number so Harry knocked on the first door and a batty old woman with grizzled grey fly away hair wearing a hairnet and tartan carpet slippers answered it,

"Umm…Ma'am, I'm looking for the owner of this building. Could you help me?"

The woman looked him up and down before speaking,

"Arabella Figg. I'm the owner. What do you want?"

Harry cheered inwardly and spoke,

"If you don't mind, I need to ask you some questions."

Mrs. Figg eyed him suspiciously before stepping aside,

"Come inside."

Harry walked into her home and realized that it smelled strongly of cabbage. The living room walls were covered in photographs of cats and Harry realized that if he had any hope of getting information from here then he'd have to use the cats. He didn't despise animals, but he just didn't enjoy cuddling with them either. He wasn't a people's person and he wasn't an animal person, but he had the ability to draw them both in and for some reason they trusted him as well,

"Were these all yours?"

Mrs Figg smiled pleasantly as she ushered him to the couch. Harry noticed that it was covered in cat hair and soon enough he saw an odd-looking cat trot into the room. It had spotted fur, outsized ears and a plumed tail like that of a lion's. Mrs Figg picked it up and scratched it behind the ear,

"This is Mr. Tibbles."

Harry looked at the purring cat before hesitantly reaching forward. The cat instantly leapt into his arms and nuzzled its head in his chest as he ran his fingers through its soft coat,

"He's gorgeous."

Mrs. Figg sat down beside him and spoke,

"Yes, he is, and he doesn't take too kindly to strangers. It's odd that he's so comfortable with you."

He scratched the cat under the chin and Mr. Tibbles gave another pleased purr. Mrs. Figg looked absolutely exuberant and spoke,

"So, you wanted to ask me some questions?"

Harry nodded and got out his notebook and pen with his free hand,

"Yes, a Merope Gaunt used to lived here with her husband Tom Riddle, many years ago."

Mrs. Figg frowned and spoke,

"I don't recall her."

Harry looked around the apartment hoping against hope that this wasn't a dead end. He stroked the cat's cheeks as he waited for Mrs. Figg to recall something, anything. Finally, she spoke,

"My father used to maintain registers for all the tenants. I could check that. Maybe that would jog my memory."

Harry grinned. There was hope yet. Mrs. Figg left to check the registers while he waited on the couch. His phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out to see that it was Ginny,

"Just ten more minutes, babe. I know you're tired of waiting but I need to get this done."

Ginny mumbled okay before disconnecting the call. He could tell that she was getting irritated and that wasn't going to bode well for him at all. He'd have to put in extra effort to cheer her up and that just sucked for him.

In the time, Mrs. Figg was checking the registers, Harry met her other three cats and he couldn't say that he was pleased when they crowded around him and he had to pet all of them. Sometimes he considered it a curse because once when he'd been six, a garden snake had come slithering to him and he had wrapped it effortlessly around his arm and showed it to Dursley. That had been a mistake because his uncle had killed the poor thing and then beaten him unconscious. Mrs. Figg came back into the room and Harry shook away his thoughts. She was holding a thick dust covered book in her hand and thumbed through it to a specific page before showing it to him. Harry looked at the name and the year and it fit,

"I remember the poor woman. I was just a child then but I remember how miserable she was. Her husband left her right when she needed him the most."

She settled down on the couch beside him and Harry spoke,

"Was she really pregnant?"

Mrs. Figg looked at him and asked,

"How do you know that?"

Harry picked up his notebook and spoke,

"I'm working on a research paper. Her husband claimed that she had been lying to him."

Mrs. Figg frowned and then spoke,

"Yes, their last fight was particularly violent. The whole building heard him shouting about black magic."

Harry pursed his lips and tapped his pen on his thigh,

"Was that true? Did she seem the type to practice black magic?"

Mrs. Figg shook her head,

"Everyone thought so, but I didn't think it was true. If she'd known how to practice black magic, then she wouldn't have been as miserable as she was. She would have used it to pay the rent, get food and take care of her unborn child."

Harry chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated that and then asked,

"Was she beautiful?"

Mrs. Figg shook her head at that,

"She wasn't beautiful. In fact, when she first moved here with her husband, everyone gossiped about how someone as plain looking as her could get such a handsome and loving husband."

Harry noted that down before asking,

"Did she have her baby then?"

Mrs. Figg pulled a cat into her lap and spoke,

"I don't know. She couldn't pay the rent, so my father had no choice but to evict her."

Harry stroked Mr. Tibble's behind the ear and asked,

"Do you know where she went?"

Mrs. Figg rose to her feet and spoke,

"My father was not a cruel man. He left her at the orphanage a couple of blocks from here."

Harry instantly brightened up at that,

"An orphanage?"

Mrs. Figg nodded and Harry pulled the cat out of his lap and sat it down on the floor carefully before getting up,

"Do you remember the name? Is it still there?"

Mrs. Figg smiled softly,

"Of course. Wool's orphanage. I'm friends with the daughter of the woman who originally founded it."

Harry grinned, took her hand and kissed it,

"Could you take me there and introduce me to her? I'd be eternally grateful to you."

She smiled and patted him on the cheek,

"Of course, but you never told me your name, Son."

Harry's grin widened,

"Harry…Harry Potter."

She smiled and spoke,

"Well, Harry, my knees don't have the strength to walk. Did you bring a car?"

Harry nodded and spoke,

"Yes, just come with me."

She went to get her bag and feed the cats and Harry pulled out his phone. Ginny's car was a two-seater, so he'd have to walk but he was fine with that as long as he got the answers he'd come here for. Ginny picked up on the first ring and spoke,

"Where the hell are you, Harry?"

She was angry and that definitely wasn't a good sign. He'd have to calm her down because she was her ticket back and he couldn't afford to antagonize her at this point,

"I'm on my way."

Once Mrs. Figg was ready to go, Harry led her outside to the car and she gasped,

"That's a beautiful car, Harry."

Ginny was glaring at him and Harry tried to placate her with his eyes, but it wasn't working. He opened the passenger side door for her and seated her,

"Is this your girlfriend, Harry?"

Harry nodded and smiled at Ginny,

"She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

Mrs Figg reached out and patted Ginny on the cheek,

"Yes, she's very beautiful."

Some of Ginny's anger melted away but most of it remained. Harry closed the door and walked to Ginny's side,

"Could you step out for a bit?"

Ginny stepped out of the car and hissed,

"Who the hell is she and what the hell is she doing in my car?"

Harry held her shoulders, drew in a deep breath and kissed her. Ginny moaned against his mouth before tangling her fingers in his hair painfully and taking control of it, just like she loved taking control of everything about him. Even the clothes he was wearing today had been picked out by her. He could only describe the kiss as sloppy and wet. He'd rather have snogged Mr. Tibbles. Her tongue had been something like a muscular eel worming its way into his mouth and when they finally pulled apart he had to fight the urge to wipe her thick saliva from around his lips.

It took everything he had in him to smile and fake how much he had enjoyed that. Ginny seemed utterly pleased though, so mission accomplished. He explained who Mrs Figg was and why she was in her car and Ginny accepted it all readily when he promised to kiss her again after he was done. Ginny blew him another kiss after she got into the driver's side and Harry waved them goodbye. As soon as they were out of sight. Harry pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth with it vigorously before starting off on foot after them.


	15. Chapter 15

It took Harry about twenty minutes to find the orphanage. He passed through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. Ginny's flashy car stood in stark contrast to the dull, crumbling building. It was empty, and he cursed verbally. Her vibes just messed up his head and he absolutely hated it. He needed to be laser focused to get everything he needed from here and he had a feeling Ginny was going to mess everything up. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron,

"Can I help you?"

Harry nodded,

"I'm accompanying Mrs. Figg. I believe she's inside."

The girl stepped aside to let him in. He stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying towards them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind and she was passing orders over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked towards him. When she was done, she turned towards him and smiled,

"Mr. Potter, I presume. My name is Janet Cole. Arabella has been talking non-stop about you."

Harry smiled, took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She led him into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. Mrs. Figg and Ginny were seated on a worn-out couch and they smiled when he stepped into the room. The woman invited him to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk. Ginny started talking animatedly to Mrs. Figg about something.

Harry sat down on the proffered seat and the woman eyed him curiously,

"Arabella told me that you wanted to know about Merope Gaunt. Are you from her family?"

Harry smiled softly as he pulled out his pen and notebook,

"Yes, I want to know about what happened to her. Did she have her child?"

Mrs. Cole leaned forward in her seat and spoke,

"Yes, she did. My mother was there."

Harry felt a jolt of excitement go through him. He was so close that he could practically taste it,

"Was it a boy or a girl?"

He was pretty sure about the answer before Mrs. Cole voiced it,

"A boy. But Merope died within an hour."

Harry's hold tightened on the pen and he worked on keeping his face neutral as something akin to pain clawed at his heart. He leaned back in his seat and asked the question he was dying to know the answer to,

"What did you name him?"

Mrs. Cole got up and poured them both a generous helping of gin before sitting back down. Harry#] could tell that she was really enjoying herself,

"I remember she said to my mother, "I hope he looks like his papa," and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty – and then she told my mother that he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father – yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? Everyone wondered whether she came from a circus… and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word. Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage until he was eleven and some strange man came and took him away."

There was a maelstrom of emotions running through Harry at that moment and he struggled to school his features. Sadness and Grief for the little Tom Riddle that had never known a parent's love, joy at finally knowing his name and figuring out how Marvolo Gaunt was related to this story, confusion at what had happened to land him in that crypt and a strange anger at Mrs. Cole for taking such extreme pleasure in narrating such a sad tale. The pressing matter however was the mysterious strange man that had just entered the story. He scribbled the information he had just received before looking up and asking,

"What strange man? Who was he? Do you know his name and where he took him?"

Mrs. Cole signalled him to drink and Harry took a sip just to appease her,

"He was dressed in a flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet and everything about him screamed strange. Even his name was odd."

Harry was running low on patience, but he knew he had to indulge Mrs. Cole,

"What was his name?"

Her eyebrowed furrowed and she scrunched up her nose as she tried to remember,

"Albus…Albus Dumb...something…"

Harry willed himself to stay calm. That wasn't going to work. Albus Dumb…Now that was just plain dumb,

"Could you try to remember?"

He filled her empty glass, hoping that the gin would jog up her memory. She smiled and thanked him before closing her eyes and thinking again. It was a minute before she screeched in joy and clapped her hands,

"Albus Dumbledore. That was his name and he took him to a special school. Said that Tom had won a sort of scholarship."

Harry scribbled it down quickly as resentment welled in his heart. The guy sounded shady,

"Did your mother investigate the school before sending him off?"

Mrs. Cole shrugged as she sipped her gin,

"She must have…but I'm not sure. Tom was a funny boy. We were all happy to be rid of him."

Harry placed his hands in his lap as they balled into fists. He didn't know why but everything about the young Tom Riddle awakened his protective instincts and even though he knew that this had all happened years ago, he wanted to scream and shout at the orphanage management for their stupidity and carelessness. That man could have done anything to the little boy…He could have abused him…he could have sold him to some other sick bastard. How could they have just sent him away like that? When he spoke, he was glad that he sounded perfectly calm,

"Funny how?"

Mrs. Cole laughed,

"He was a funny baby, too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was…odd."

Odd wasn't the word she had intended to use and that set him on fire. Drawing in a silent breath, he calmed himself and took another sip of his drink hoping that it would give him some patience. His tone was perfectly measured when he asked,

"Odd in what way?"

She squinted at him as though deciding whether to trust him. Apparently, she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush,

"He used to scare the other children. We were absolutely terrified of him."

Harry was literally burning with curiosity,

"He was a bully?"

She frowned,

"Yes, you could say that, but it was very hard to catch him at it…. there had been incidents…nasty things…"

Harry waited for her to continue and watched as her rosy cheeks grew rosier still,

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit … well, Tom said he didn't do it and there was no proof but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?

A cold spike went through Harry's heart, subsiding his rage. Animal cruelty was a sign of psychopathic personality disorder,

"Did you think he could have done it?"

She hiccoughed,

"I don't know how he got up there to do it. All I know is that he and Billy had argued the day before. And then…"

Mrs Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time,

"On the summer outing… we went out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside… well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things …"

Harry wrote that all down as fast as he could, and Mrs. Cole spoke,

"We were all happy to see the back of him."

Harry leaned back in his seat and asked,

"He never came back?"

Mrs. Cole laughed tipsily,

"Every summer…"

Harry felt himself relax to some point, but he still wasn't sure,

"Was he alright?"

Mrs. Cole frowned again as she took another sip of her gin,

"He never talked much. Kept to himself."

That wasn't a very satisfying answer. Tom had murdered his father and grandparents at age sixteen and he couldn't help but ask,

"How old was he when you last saw him?"

Mrs. Cole leaned back in her seat and entwined her fingers,

"Sixteen…He barely stayed here that summer though. He spent most of it someplace else."

That settled a lot of things. He thanked Mrs. Cole and asked,

"One last question."

She cocked up an eyebrow,

"What was the name of the school he went to?"

She pursed her lips and then spoke,

"I don't recall the name."

Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to get anything out of her. She seemed tipsy now. Harry took her hand, kissed the back of it and spoke,

"You have no idea how much you've helped me."

She beamed as he rose to her feet and smiled at her. He turned to look at Ginny who was still chatting with Mrs. Figg. Damn, sometimes he wanted to tape her mouth shut. He called out to her,

"Ginny."

She didn't listen to him. He spoke again,

"Ginny, we're done."

Ginny stopped talking and looked at him before her lips curled into a grin,

"Finally, we can get to the fun part now."

Mrs. Figg chuckled and Mrs Cole joined in. He did a good impression of blushing when truly he felt nothing but disgust. He pocketed his notebook and spoke,

"We have to drop Mrs. Figg off first."

Ginny pouted but nodded her head before making her way out of the office. He helped Mrs. Figg up from the couch and was leading her out of the office when she whispered in her ear,

"You should be careful around her, Harry. She acts like she owns you. She's not the one for you."

Harry patted her on the shoulder softly as he led her down the steps,

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Figg. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You've been immensely helpful."

She patted him on the cheek as he helped her into the car and closed the door. As he watched the red Porsche speed away, he thought about what everything he had discovered today, and his next point of action should be. Albus Dumbledore...he wasn't sure that he would be alive by now but there was no harm in looking him up. That man could answer a lot of his questions and maybe he would know how Tom had been placed in that crypt. He also thought about what Mrs. Figg had said. According to his original plan, he'd intended to break up with Ginny this evening, but he couldn't do that now because he might need her in his pursuit for Albus Dumbledore. He gagged at the thought of enduring her for another few days as he started walking towards Mrs. Figg's flat on foot.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry sat in Ginny's pristine living room while she gossiped in hushed murmurs to someone on the phone. He'd rather have gone home but Ginny had insisted that he have dinner with her before leaving. Ginny thought that she was being subtle, but she wasn't. Harry knew this was all just a ploy to get him in bed and that was never going to happen…not if he could help it. He knew that the moment, Ginny got him in bed, she would be done with him and he still needed her. Harry pulled out his phone and decided to search for Albus Dumbledore while they waited for dinner.

The search engine generated about a hundred results but every single one of them was useless. Anger boiled deep in his system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew it was too much for him to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he did not mean, or to express thoughts he'd suppressed for weeks. He visibly started when someone whispered in his ear,

"We didn't pin you for that type."

Harry rose to his feet from the couch and turned around to find himself face to face with Ginny's twin brothers who were wearing matching grins that were the pure epitome of wickedness. How long had they been standing there? They must have seen what he'd been searching on the phone. Harry, somehow managed to regain his composure and asked,

"What type?"

They both snickered together and then stepped around the couch to get closer to him. One of them leaned forwards and whispered in his ear,

"Albus Dumbledore…you were searching for him…"

Could it be possible? Could they really know who he was? Harry couldn't believe his luck,

"You know him?"

The twins nodded, and Harry couldn't help but ask,

"Tell me."

Ginny spoke from behind him,

"I told you guys not to bother my friends."

The twins chuckled and Harry's anger from earlier threatened to come to the surface again,

"We all know they're not just your friends but…we rather like this one…can we borrow him?"

Ginny scowled,

"No…he's mine and we're going to have dinner now so go away."

One of the twins snagged his phone from his hand and made quick work of saving their number. He handed it back to him with a smirk and spoke,

"Call us. We'll meet up when our sister isn't staking her claim on you."

Harry looked down at the number and then back up at the twins,

"I'll definitely call you."

They gave him another wicked grin before walking away. Harry could only stare at their backs and burn with the desire to run up to them and find out everything about the man that had taken Tom Riddle away and ask them about what they had meant when they said that they hadn't pinned him as that type…what type?

Ginny grabbed his arm and steered him to the opulent dining room, but Harry had no appetite for food. The meal held no flavour, everything tasted bland and Harry found it incredibly difficult to keep himself focused on Ginny's words and laugh at all the right times.

When he exited her huge house, he drew in a deep gulp of fresh hair. Ginny's presence had nearly driven him to insanity and that burning curiosity was smouldering him alive. On top of everything that urge to destroy something was back. He struggled to center himself as he walked on the side walk. His uncle was out of town and his aunt was probably getting her beauty sleep, so he didn't really have to worry about being home tonight. He walked straight to Riddle Manor because he just needed to let out all the anger and frustration of the day.

He didn't go straight to the crypt. Instead he made his way to one of the rooms, grabbed a plank and laid waste to anything that wasn't already broken. The noise and the wreckage helped calm him and he felt marginally better when he made his way downstairs. He grabbed one of the expensive bottles of wine from the cellar and headed straight for the coffin,

"Hey, Tom."

Tom looked just the way he always did. Harry ran a finger over his cheek and murmured,

"You have no idea how close I am to unravelling you."

He liked that he finally knew his name and a little about his past,

"I'm sorry about the noise earlier but I'm sure you don't mind. I just needed to unwind from my horrible day with Ginny. Seriously I can't wait to get rid of her. But… I still need her. There's so much I found out about you today and there's so much that's left."

Harry looked down at the bottle in his hand and spoke,

"Oh, and I took this bottle from your cellar. I might as well go all out today…"

He went to his usual spot and settled down on the cold hard floor with his back against the wall. He ran his finger over the bottle in his lap and spoke,

"I don't think it's a good idea to drink around you. I might say something revealing about myself and then you'll be able to hunt me down when you wake up."

He pulled out the lock pick set from inside his pocket and used the torsion wrench to get the cork out before taking a swig directly from the bottle. The burning flavour on his tongue was a little unexpected and he swallowed it hastily. The burn travelled down his throat and he felt it all the way to his belly. It wasn't wholly unpleasant, and Harry found himself liking it. He had drunk wine before, he had even smoked occasionally when he had been at Saint Brutus but he'd never gotten drunk or stoned before,

"Oh my God…That was just..."

He took another swig from the bottle and this time savoured the burn before swallowing it,

"I'm beginning to see why this stuff is so expensive."

He rested his head against the wall and sighed,

"Oh, Tom. I really don't want to find any more tragedy in your story. I really don't like the sound of this Dumbledore character. He seems kind of shady. I hope I'm wrong about him."

He fished out his phone and looked at the number the twins had saved. His finger hovered over the call icon, but he changed his mind and put his phone down beside him. He would seem desperate if he called now and that wasn't the impression he wanted the twins to have of him. He didn't trust them. Maybe they were lying but something in their eyes forced him to admit that they definitely knew something.

An hour later, he'd downed almost half of the bottle and was standing by the coffin and frowning at Tom,

"You know, Princess. I can't help but think of sleeping beauty when I look at you…or…or think about you… Does that make sense?"

He couldn't help but giggle and that made him lose his balance. He gripped the edge of the coffin to keep himself upright, leaned over Tom and whispered,

"What does that make me?"

He ran a finger down the long line of Tom's throat,

"Tell me, Tom. What does that make me?"

Harry pouted and then burst into another fit of giggles. This time he couldn't keep his balance and fell on his knees,

"Your prince charming…I'm your prince charming, Princess."


	17. Chapter 17

Harry awoke on the cold hard floor of the crypt feeling incredibly stiff and aching all over with waves of nausea adding to his misery. His phone pinged with message after message, but he was too far gone to care. His brain felt like it had swelled beyond the capacity of his skull and his dehydration was too obvious to ignore. His stomach lurched and gurgled. Perhaps some painkillers would help too. He raised his heavy eyelids half way only for them to fall shut. He raised them again and propped himself up against the wall. His throat felt like sandpaper as he swallowed.

Water…he needed water. He reached blindly for his bag and knocked the bottle over instead that landed on the floor with a clink. Where the hell was his bag? He cursed loudly, and the sound of his voice echoed around in the enclosed space. He sat up a little straighter and managed to grab a hold of his bag and drag it to him. Pulling out his water bottle, he almost instantly held it to his lips and drank. The thirst stayed though after each slow drink of water and his head felt fit to crack open.

With his brain still struggling to recover from the previous night's abuse, he had very few options. He couldn't go back home yet. Aunt Petunia would flay him alive if she saw him in this state. He couldn't go to Ginny either. His phone pinged again and Harry snatched it up from beside him. The first fifteen messages were from Ginny, that he conveniently ignored and the last one however was from the twins. He felt utterly intrigued and opened it to see what it was,

_Can you meet us in an hour for lunch?_

Lunch? Harry looked at the time and realized that it was nearly one. He was about to type yes but he was in desperate need for a shower and fresh clothes. Maybe, he could sneak home, clean up and then meet the twins…No…His aunt wouldn't let him leave without making him do all the house work he'd missed since yesterday. He typed instead,

_I'm hung over_

Harry hoped that the twins didn't take that answer as a no. Soon enough, his phone rang and he realized that they were calling him. He picked it up and one of the twins spoke,

"Tough night?"

Harry laughed and realized how hoarse he sounded,

"Yeah, you could say that. But anyways, can we change up the time a bit. I need to go home and clean up first."

The tone grew extremely serious,

"We were doing some research on you last night."

Harry's grip tightened on the phone as he straightened up,

"We should talk about this face to face as soon as possible. Skip the cleaning up part. We're sending you the address of a motel. Be there in an hour."

The call ended, and Harry struggled to get up to his feet. What had the twins researched about him? This had to be a lie. And why were they calling him at a motel? Everything about this just screamed trouble but he'd never been one to shy away from danger. Once on his feet, the crypt swayed almost causing him to lose balance and he reached out for the wall. He missed and sprawled onto the floor with a crashing thump. The room swirled before becoming stationary again and he once again reached for the wall. This time he managed to pull himself to standing and took a few staggering steps towards the coffin,

"If those two murder me, I want you to avenge me when you wake up because I'm doing this all for you, Princess."

He drifted off and his own words echoed inside his head. Sleeping beauty…How had that fairy tale ended? He snorted when he recalled the original one in which the king had sneaked into the castle and raped and impregnated the sleeping beauty. He laughed, and his laughter bounced off the walls. His head felt a bit lighter as he sat back and recited the original tale of Sleeping Beauty. He knew it was probably sick, but he found the original tale much more amusing than the garbled Disney version. When Harry was done telling the story, he straightened up and spoke,

"I don't think that would work with you, Princess."

He tapped his lips with his fingers and then murmured,

"But a kiss might do the job."

He checked his breath and gagged. Definitely not with this breath. That kiss theory would have to wait. He dusted off his clothes and couldn't help but stare at Tom's lips. What would they taste like? He wretched when he imagined the kiss he had shared with Ginny. Shuddering, he took a step back and began gathering his things,

"I'll see you if I survive this."

Harry pulled his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the crypt.

Forty-Five minutes later, he stood outside the room number, the twins had texted him and knocked. His sixth sense was screaming at him to run but his curiosity won over and he waited for the twins to open up. A minute later, the door opened up and Harry stepped in without an invitation. He was too exhausted to put up that polite façade. One of the twins closed the door behind him and Harry spotted the other one sprawled on the couch. The one that had closed the door spoke up,

"I'm Fred and this is George."

Harry gave the room a thorough once over and was about to speak when George signalled to a shopping bag on the bed,

"Why don't you take a shower and get dressed?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"I don't trust you."

Fred joined his brother on the couch and cocked up an eyebrow,

"Well you'll have to trust us if you really want to know about Albus Dumbledore."

Harry picked up the shopping bag and viewed the contents. It contained a pair of jeans, a button up shirt, and a black pullover. If the twins' smirk was anything to go by then they definitely knew something and the smugness on their faces told him that they expected him to comply. He put down the bag, filled up a glass of water from the jug on the side table and downed it one,

"Go on, Sweetheart. Get yourself cleaned up and then we'll get you something to eat while we talk."


	18. Chapter 18

Harry sat on the bed, showered and dressed in the clothes the twins had gotten him and staring down at the tray of food in front of him,

"So, start talking."

He stuffed his mouth with a forkful of mashed potatoes while he waited for the twins to talk. The twins pulled out a manila envelope from inside a black bag along with a laptop. Fred handed the envelope to him while George fired up the laptop. He put the knife and fork down and opened up the envelope. But before he could check the contents, Fred spoke,

"Patience, sweetheart."

Harry gnashed his teeth. Patience was something he was sorely lacking at the moment. He didn't trust these guys and the bloody paranoia was incredibly frustrating. He didn't like being put on his guard,

"I suggest that you tell me what you want from me? I'm sick of this game."

He put the envelope down and picked up his knife and fork again before slicing into the steak and taking a bite. He might as well eat now because he knew he was not going to get anything when he returned home,

"This isn't a game."

Harry chewed and swallowed before speaking,

"Could have fooled me."

He shovelled another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth as he thought hard about what was going on here and how he was going to get out of here if things went south,

"You've been to the hospital twelve times in the past sixteen years."

Harry dropped the knife and fork with a clatter. How did they find that out? His uncle had only ever taken him to the hospital when he'd feared that he'd gone a little too far and he would die. But...even then, he'd bribed the doctor to keep his injuries under wraps. Faking nonchalance was the only option he had,

"So?"

The twins stared pointedly at the envelope he'd put down. He picked it up and pulled the papers out. Reading through them he realized that they were all medical reports. Accidents, falling down the stairs, slipping on ice…The list was insanely absurd. He put them back down and asked,

"First off, what is this about? How did you even get these? Secondly, there's nothing wrong with this."

The twins leaned forward, and George spoke,

"Don't worry about how we got those. But, there's everything wrong with them. You don't strike us as that clumsy."

He scowled,

"Well, I am that clumsy."

They rose to their feet and settled down on the bed beside him,

"You're a sharp guy, Harry. You should know all these are standard excuses for victims of domestic abuse. And if we were to lift your shirt up, we'd still find bruises."

Harry pushed the tray away,

"What does that have to do with anything?"

The twins grinned,

"So, you're admitting it?"

He crossed his arms over his chest,

"Yeah, my uncle tends to take out his daily frustration on me when he's drunk."

Fred and George were utterly serious when they spoke next,

"You're doing it for your parents' inheritance, right?"

This time Harry couldn't simply shrug it off,

"How the hell did you find out all this?"

Fred cupped his cheek,

"That is none of your concern, sweetheart."

Harry pushed his hand away,

"Yes, it is. I demand to know how you know all this."

The twins grinned and shook their heads,

"We can't reveal our sources, but we know a whole lot more about you. You didn't exactly have a clean record at Saint Brutus, did you?"

Harry's pushed the tray away and rose to his feet,

"Either you tell me how you know all this about me or I walk out. Oh and no one at Saint Brutus has a clean record."

He was just about to walk away when Fred gripped his wrist and George pulled him back down on the bed. He landed on his back and the twins held him down,

"You're not leaving, sweetheart."

He kicked his legs and struggled to get free but two against one weren't good odds. George laughed and spoke softly,

"It's better if you relax and listen to what we have to say."

Harry was about to shout when George clamped a hand down over his mouth,

"Don't make us restrain you."

Harry glowered at both of them and continued to struggle. He had no idea where they produced the handcuffs and the gag from but five minutes later, Harry found himself restrained to the bed and unable to move or scream for help. Things had gone downhill pretty fast and he was wondering how he was going to get out of this. He had his lockpick set in his pocket but he had no way to reach for it. On top of that, he had no idea what the twins intended to do to him,

"Harry, you need to calm down."

Harry drew in a deep breath and relaxed against the pillows. The only way out of this was to cooperate. Fred pushed his hair away from his forehead and George unbuttoned his shirt. Harry closed his eyes because he knew there were yellowed fading bruises all over his chest and stomach…parting gifts that his uncle had left him with the night before he left for his business trip. Fred's voice was much softer when he spoke,

"We're not going to hurt you."

Harry wanted to speak but it was useless with the gag in the way. George picked up the laptop and showed him a picture. Harry tried to make some sense of it but couldn't. It was a picture of a group of people but there was no one that he recognized,

"Look closer, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll see the resemblance."

And he did, and it felt like the world slipped away from right underneath him. The man standing in the picture had his looks or rather it was the other way around…and the green-eyed woman standing next to the man…Was these his parents? He had never seen them. He had tried researching them but had always come up blank. His Aunt hadn't kept a single picture of her sister in the house, so he'd had no luck there as well. Seeing them now was just unrealistic…this seemed like a dream…His brain refused to believe it. This could be a trick. Fred removed the gag from his mouth and Harry instantly spoke,

"This isn't real…"

They grinned,

"Oh, this is very real."

He took another look at the picture and then closed his eyes. He didn't feel any of the emotions he'd thought he'd feel when he would see his parents for the first time. There was no joy, no sorrow…nothing…just that numbness that always surrounded him. Maybe because he had given up on them long ago and once he gave up on something, he never gave a damn about it. He didn't care about his parents. They meant nothing to him now. He needed a plan to get out of this. Cold rationality was the only thing that would get him out of here now,

"We assume this is why you were researching Albus Dumbledore the other night?"

Harry inhaled, exhaled, calmed himself…His parents and Albus Dumbledore were connected? The twins had unknowingly provided him the perfect excuse to explain why he'd been searching for that man. He couldn't let anyone know about Tom. That was a secret he was willing to take to his grave. It seemed like lady luck had blessed him once again. He could salvage this situation and get something more out of it after all. Feeling more in control now, he opened his eyes,

"Yes, now tell me all about him and my parents."


	19. Chapter 19

"Could you let me out of these cuffs now? Seriously, I won't leave."

The twins snickered and shook their heads,

"Not yet, sweetheart. Besides, you look pretty in them."

Harry clenched his teeth and squared his jaw. Fred held his chin and massaged his jaw with his thumb,

"Relax."

Harry bit out,

"If you say that to me one more time, I promise I'll punch your lights out as soon as I get out of these."

George chuckled and caressed his cheek,

"You look beautiful when you're aggressive."

Harry stilled and glared at them,

"Are you kidding me? I'm not…"

George clamped a hand over his mouth,

"Don't finish that sentence."

He scowled and George removed his hand,

"Are we going to get to the point now?"

Fred tsked,

"You're very impatient."

He turned to George and asked,

"Shall we get to the point then?"

George nodded,

"Sure."

Harry relaxed against the pillows and asked,

"So, who is Albus Dumbledore and how did he know my parents?"

The twins settled down on the bed on either side of him and George spoke,

"Albus Dumbledore…where to start? The man is an enigma…A puzzle…He's a contradiction…"

Harry pulled himself up to ease pressure on his cuffed wrists and then spoke,

"You're talking about him like you love him."

The twins grimaced and stuck your tongues out,

"YUCK…HELL NO!"

Harry couldn't understand what was going on. Normally he could read people with incredible ease but reading the twins and their intentions was almost impossible. He was getting extremely impatient though and he was absolutely hating it. Why couldn't they just cut to the chase? Fred spoke,

"If you'd ask us, the man is pure evil."

No…No…No…This was what he had feared. This man had taken Tom away…He was almost afraid to hear more…Please don't let him be a paedophile…please…please…please don't let him be a sick bastard who took twisted pleasure in tormenting children or sold them to other sick bastards. Fred caressed his cheek,

"What happened to you? You've gone deathly pale."

Harry blinked and looked at the concerned expressions on their faces and that perturbed him because no one had ever been genuinely concerned about him before,

"Are the cuffs too tight? We should get them off now."

Fred unlocked the cuffs but Harry didn't make an attempt to move. He merely rubbed his wrists and then folded his arms behind his head. He was burning with the need to know more,

"Thanks. You were saying something about Dumbledore being pure evil."

Fred and George still seemed a little concerned and spoke softly,

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Harry nodded. Why were they so worried about him all of a sudden? Was it an act? Were they trying to win over his trust? Well, if this was an act then they both deserved an Oscar. He drew in a deep breath and tried to control the frantic beating of his heart. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden? Why was he even concerned about Tom? There was nothing he could do even if Dumbledore turned out to be a paedophile. He couldn't reverse what had happened to Tom. Had his parents been evil too? Had they been a part of it all? George touched him lightly on the cheek and spoke,

"You can leave if you want to. We're sorry if we caused you any discomfort. It wasn't our intention. We just wanted to rattle you enough so that you would tell us the truth about your abuse. I guess we went a little too far…"

Harry sat up straight and ran his fingers through his hair. It was extremely difficult for him to tell whether the twins were being sincere. He was inherently paranoid. Life had never been kind to him. He'd never had any friends because he had never trusted anyone enough and no one had ever given him a reason to trust them so right now, he was seriously suspicious about the twins' motives, but he needed to know more so he spoke,

"Tell me more."

The twins exchanged an uneasy glance and then spoke,

"Do you believe in magic and magical creatures?"

Magical creatures…vampires, werewolves…things like that…The likelihood that Tom was a vampire was increasing by the second,

"No."

The twins snorted,

"You should start believing then because what we're about to tell you is all about magic. Albus Dumbledore was the first person to practice magic..."

Harry held up a hand,

"Wait…He's a bloody magician?"

The twins nodded together,

"Yes. A magician…a wizard if you can call him that…"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. This wasn't making any sense. He was desperately trying to connect the dots and so far, the only connection he could form was that Tom's mother, Merope had been accused of being a witch and practicing black magic to ensnare her husband. Had Tom inherited her magic? Is that why Dumbledore had taken him away with him?

"You said he's evil. How so?"

Fred clasped his fingers together and spoke,

"Well, for some people…well almost everyone…Dumbledore is the epitome of goodness and kindness. He's the old man that everyone loves. Dumbledore leads a group of people…well wizards…who work for the betterment of this world…you know using their magic for the greater good and stuff like that. They're called the Order of the Phoenix. That picture we showed you…the one with your parents…that was a picture of the founding members of the order. Your parents were Dumbledore's first followers…"

Harry interjected,

"Hold up…You're saying that my parents were wizards?"

The twins nodded together,

"Yup…Your parents were members."

Harry tried to digest that little piece of information. He wasn't really bothered or affected by that knowledge. But there were a thousand questions running through his mind and the first one was why the twins believed that Dumbledore was evil. The twins continued,

"Now, Dumbledore used to teach magic before he founded the order. He used to take orphans from various orphanages and taught them magic so that they could help others…or so he said…"

That sounded incredibly suspicious. Some of his uneasiness must have showed on his face because the twins grinned,

"We knew you'd start seeing it too."

George picked up the laptop again and showed him a black and white picture of a group of children…There were about thirty kids in total…A man stood in the center of the group and Harry nearly gasped when he saw the little boy who was standing right next to him. The man had an arm wrapped around the boy's shoulders…The boy had delicate features and a mop of dark hair, the colour of his eyes was almost impossible to tell in the picture but the lifelessness and despair in them was unmistakeable…He was all skin and bones and the shirt he wore was two or three sizes too big for him. This was Tom and the man standing next to him was Albus Dumbledore. There wasn't a doubt about it. He looked at the other children in the picture and noticed that all of them had that dead look in their eyes. There were three girls in the pictures and the rest of them were boys. They all looked around the age of eleven. His heart was jackhammering in his chest. He could feel the blood thundering in his ear and his hands balled into fists. His voice shook when he asked,

"He abused them?"

It was difficult to tear his eyes away from the picture, but he did look away and noticed the dark expressions on the twins' faces,

"There's no proof but…"

Suddenly, Harry found that he couldn't sit still anymore. He rose to his feet and began pacing the room furiously. That picture was proof enough in itself. That look on those children's faces was a mix of terror and hopelessness,

"But what?"

He was itching to pull out his notebook from his bag but pulling it out meant revealing it to the twins and it was a little too valuable for that. He didn't trust them at all,

"There was a murder. The body of one of those children was found in a marsh by the river Thames in London. There were visible signs of abuse and he had died from a fatal cut on his throat."

Harry stopped and shuddered. Fred spoke,

"There's a ritual in which a child must be sacrificed in order to gain magical strength and immortality…"

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes,

"Dumbledore sacrificed him?"

The twins were silent,

"How do you know all this and why are you telling me?"

There was no reply and Harry forced his eyes open to see a look of utmost pain on their faces,

"We're members of the current order and you were meant to be a member too…It's a good thing you aren't though…"


	20. Chapter 20

"Wait…Hold up…You're saying that you're members of Dumbledore's crazy cult and I was supposed to be a member too? Are you sure about that?"

The twins rose to their feet and frowned,

"We didn't know who you were until we looked you up last night. Well, generally the rule is that if your parents are in the order then their children are meant to be members of the order as well…"

Harry forced his hands into his pockets as the implications of that statement hit him. If Ginny knew magic…Oh damn it…She could have already started influencing him just like Merope had influenced Tom's father but…but he didn't feel obsessively infatuated with her and he was pretty sure he hated her. No, she hadn't influenced him yet. He was sure of it,

"Is Ginny…?"

A grin finally curved the twins' mouths and they spoke together,

"Nope, she doesn't have the aptitude for it, nor does our brother, Ron. Bill, Percy and we were the only ones who had the ability to be wizards."

That did nothing to ease his mind though and he asked,

"Does she and your brothers know about the order and magic and all this nonsense?"

The twins pouted,

"It's not nonsense. Well Dumbledore is a bastard but that doesn't mean that all magic is evil."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest,

"I don't give a damn about your precious magic. Just answer the question."

The twins raised their eyebrows and spoke suspiciously,

"You're taking this awfully well though. Most people would start freaking out by now."

They got up to their feet and crowded him against the wall,

"Either you don't believe us or…"

Harry held their gaze,

"Or?"

The twins smirked,

"Or you already knew that magic exists."

Harry leaned back against the wall and grinned,

"No and no. I do believe you and I really didn't know that magic existed."

Fred cupped his jaw and crooned,

"Something about you is just begging us to ravage you."

Harry turned his head and George inhaled his scent deeply,

"Could you just answer my question?"

The twins blinked, shaking out of their heady daze or whatever had gotten over them,

"No, they don't know."

Harry couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief at that. The twins giggled,

"Were you afraid that she'd sneak a love potion into your drink?"

Harry perked up,

"Love potions? Do they exist?"

The twins nodded solemnly,

"Oh yes, they do. Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skilful potioneer, but no has managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called love."

Had Merope used love potions? It sure seemed like it. Damn it, he was just burning to jot this all down. The twins snapped their fingers,

"Where'd you go?"

Harry smiled,

"Nowhere. You said Dumbledore taught magic before he founded the order. Why did he stop teaching? What happened to all those children?"

The twins led him back to the bed and made him sit down before sitting on either side of him,

"Well we told you one of them was murdered. Dumbledore stopped teaching after that. We don't know what happened to the children."

Another question was burning in his mind and he asked,

"How old was he?"

The twins pursed their lips,

"Fifteen."

Harry pulled his legs up on the bed and laid back before lacing his fingers underneath his head. He frowned at the ceiling. Fifteen…Tom had been sixteen when he'd killed his father and grandparents. The unusual circumstances of the Riddles' murders didn't seem unusual anymore. It was clear that Tom had used magic. But there was a question that was just nagging him. Had Tom been practicing magic before the age of eleven. Mrs. Cole's words echoed inside his head. Tom had been different and then there was that rabbit incident and the other one in that cave,

"Are you still with us?"

He nodded,

"Yeah, I'm here. When did he create the order? Why'd he create it?"

Harry heard the twins shuffle around and then Fred spoke,

"Another group of wizards emerged. They called themselves Death eaters and Lord Voldemort was their leader. They were all dark and performed the most horrendous deeds. It is rumoured that they were vampires but that can't be right because they were able to come out in sunlight. It is also rumoured that their leader, Lord Voldemort was immortal. So Dumbledore created the order to counter the threat."

Lord Voldemort…what kind of a name was that? He snorted…It was certainly better than Dumbledore. Vampires and immortality…they were getting somewhere now…

"Lord Voldemort?"

The twins frowned,

"Yeah. He was the darkest wizard of all time…fearsome and utterly twisted…perhaps even worse than Dumbledore. He wanted to rule the world and tell everyone about the existence of magic."

Lord Voldemort…Could it be Tom? The twins said that they had no idea what happened to those children. Harry was willing to bet on his life that those death eaters were those children and Voldemort…Voldemort was Tom…

"What happened to him?"

The twins were extremely quiet and that wasn't a good sign,

"Well, this is where you and your parents came in."

Harry sat up straight,

"Me and my parents?"

What could he and his parents have done to stop Voldemort? That insane urge to know was killing him,

"Dumbledore set a trap for him and orchestrated a fake prophecy. According to the prophecy, you were supposed to be Lord Voldemort's downfall…"

Harry raised up a hand,

"Wait…wait…wait… a prophecy? Who even believes in that stuff? I mean seriously…and I would have had to be a baby then…how did Dumbledore expect Voldemort to believe that a baby could be his downfall. That's just plain dumb."

The twins shrugged,

"Yeah, it sounds foolish, but some people take prophecies very seriously and Voldemort was nearly at the height of his power then, he wasn't going to tolerate anything or anyone getting in his way even if it was just a baby."

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose,

"So, I'm assuming he believed it."

He could almost imagine the twins nod,

"Yeah, he believed it and he came to kill you but…Dumbledore's plan backfired or so he says. We think he knew that this was going to happen."

Harry opened his eyes. He knew what was coming next but somehow, he didn't feel that deeply affected by it. His parents were just characters in this story…they were nothing more than that and it seemed that he'd become a character as well,

"He killed them, didn't he?"

He sounded cold. The twins gaped at him and then nodded silently,

"Dumbledore had you and your parents shifted to a safe house, but Voldemort found out the location and he came to hunt you down. Your parents cast a curse on him to protect you from him and that cost them their lives."

He knew that this was the part where he was supposed to cry and lament his parents' death, but he didn't feel anything except for that burning curiosity,

"Your parents had named your Aunt as your guardian, so you were relocated to her house and that was the end of the story. We don't know why Dumbledore never contacted you. You should have been a member of the order in relation to your parents."

He tapped his finger on his lips and then spoke,

"Maybe I didn't have the…what did you call it…aptitude…yeah, maybe I didn't have the aptitude for it."

The twins frowned,

"Maybe."

He got up from the bed and picked up his bag from the floor,

"Is there something more?"

The twins shook their heads,

"We just thought that you should know this."

He pulled the bag over his shoulder,

"Thanks for telling me all this. You answered a lot of my questions. I'll call you if I have anymore."

The twins were both wearing matching expressions of concern,

"Sure, call us."

He was about to walk out the door when he asked,

"Could you send me those two pictures? The one of the order and the one with the children."

The twins nodded and waved him goodbye,

"We will."


	21. Chapter 21

Harry headed straight for the park and once he had settled down on the grass, he pulled out a pen and his notebook and started noting down everything that the twins had just told him. Once he had transferred all the information down on the pages, he flipped back to the first page and began going through it just so that he could start corelating the events.

Everything felt disorganized, so he began jotting down all the events in chronological order on a fresh page. A whirlwind of thoughts was running through his head as he organized everything. Up until last night he'd believed that he was just an ordinary person who had given into his curiosity and discovered Tom…Everything that he'd learnt this morning had changed his point of view. His curiosity wasn't the reason he'd found Tom. This had fate written all over it.

He snorted at himself…Fate…Yeah right. Fate didn't exist. Maybe it had just been a coincidence. But he didn't believe in coincidences either. There was always a logical reason behind everything. He just needed to find it in this case. The curse his parents had cast on Voldemort must have been seventeen years ago since he was almost bordering on eighteen now. He must have been a few months old when that had occurred. Was the curse the reason, he was so drawn to Tom? It could be or maybe it was something else. There were still a lot of unknowns in the equation. He knew where Tom had been until he was sixteen. He had no idea where he'd gone after that. Was he really Lord Voldemort?

He went over the name Tom Marvolo Riddle…The full name that Mrs. Cole had provided him. Tom Marvolo Riddle…Lord Voldemort…He wrote Tom Marvolo Riddle and then he wrote Lord Voldemort underneath it. He was just staring hard at the names when his cousin's hateful voice, resounded in his ears,

"Oi, Potter. What are you doing here?"

Harry set his notebook in his lap and then looked up at his cousin who was accompanied with his gang of friends. Just perfect. He slipped his notebook into his bag and rose to his feet and spoke,

"Hello, Dudley."

Dudley fisted the pullover he was dressed in and pulled him closer,

"Don't hello me, Potter. Where were you last night?"

Harry grinned. He knew what was eating at Dudley. His cousin thought that he'd gotten laid last night. Well he was going to let him keep thinking that,

"With Ginny."

He ducked to avoid the punch that Dudley threw at him. Dudley had been the boxing champion at his school, but he was near as good as him. Everyone at Saint Brutus fought dirty so of course he'd picked up a few tricks himself. Dudley's friends snickered behind him and one of them…Piers spoke up,

"Is she really as good as they say, Potter?"

Dudley released him and turned on his friend,

"Are you on my side or his?"

Piers smirked,

"Definitely yours but there's no harm in asking him for all the juicy details, right? Besides, I don't get why you've got your panties in a twist. This is good news. She slept with him and now she's going to dump him. You can finally have your chance with her."

Harry wanted to laugh but Piers was doing a great job of calming Dudley down and a calm Dudley was better than a raging Dudley, so he didn't. Instead he pulled up a morose expression and spoke,

"It was good while it lasted."

Dudley finally broke into laughter and thumped Pier on the shoulder,

"You're right, my man. I don't why I ever doubted you."

Dudley turned to look at him and Harry saw Pier wink at him over his shoulder. Oh great, now he owed Piers. That was never pleasant. Piers and his friends led Dudley away to celebrate his supposed break up and Harry wished that Ginny really had dumped him. His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check who it was. Speak of the Devil…Seriously Ginny really was the devil,

"Hey sweetheart. How are you"

Ginny instantly began complaining about this and that. To him it sounded like blah…blah…blah. Come to think of it, he didn't need Ginny anymore…he didn't have to bear her bickering for another minute. The twins would help him wherever he needed it. So, he drew in a deep breath and spoke,

"I don't think this is working out between us."

Instantly Ginny fell silent and Harry internally snickered. He hadn't thought that Ginny could ever shut up. But he had a role to play right now so he spoke as softly as possible,

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't want to hurt you but I'm not the one for you."

Yeah…it's not you, it's me…but in this case it was definitely Ginny…well not that he was the epitome of perfection…He was sick and twisted and in some way, Ginny was too. And then Ginny shrieked,

"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BREAKING UP WITH ME OVER THE PHONE?"

Harry held the phone away from his ear and winced,

"I'll come by later to return everything."

Ginny shouted again,

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE BLOODY STUFF…YOU'D BETTER GET HERE THIS INSTANT."

Harry shook his head involuntarily. No way in hell was he going back to her. But it was like Ginny could see him through the phone because she spoke,

"If you don't come to me, I'll come to you."

Harry shivered at the lethality of Ginny's tone. Nope, he definitely didn't want her anywhere near his relatives,

"I'm coming."


	22. Chapter 22

The door was opened by the grim looking butler slash man servant. Honestly, whenever he looked at him, he got those creepy vibes…like the man was a serial killer by night. He laughed internally…it wasn't like he was completely normal. He talked to a supposedly comatose vampire, who by the way could be dead, at night. He certainly had no right to judge. He patted him on the shoulder and inquired,

"How are you?"

The man looked startled for a moment as if he'd never expected him to talk to him. Come to think of it, he'd always ignored him the handful of times he'd been here. He felt like a jerk and cursed himself. He seriously needed to work on his empathy. The man replied in a smooth baritone voice,

"I am doing very well. How are you, S…"

Harry raised a hand and cut across him with a smile,

"Don't call me that. By the way, I'm fine…"

Ginny's shouting caught his attention and his smile fell,

"But apparently I won't be fine for long. Catch you later."

He strolled into the huge living room and found Ginny pacing around it furiously. Her red hair was in disarray and all over the place, her cheeks were flushed, and her face was scrunched up in an expression of extreme rage. Her gaze locked with him and he barely ducked in time to avoid the vase that she threw at him. The crash followed by sound of its shattering reverberated around the room. Ginny grabbed a brass figurine of a lion and chucked it at him. He had to dive behind the couch to dodge it and decided that it was safer here then getting back up. Ginny continued to toss things his way and Harry bore the ear shattering noise in silence, hoping that Ginny would run out of things soon. Eventually, she did and when he deemed it safe to emerge behind the couch, he approached her. She was sitting on the couch and crying…well they weren't real tears. He could tell that this was her last-ditch effort to force him to stay. He wasn't going to. Ginny had lived out her usefulness,

"Ginny, you need to understand. You and I aren't evenly matched out. I can't afford to keep you happy."

Ginny gripped his wrist and Harry felt her nails dig into his skin,

"When have I ever asked you for anything? I don't need anything from you…I just need you…"

Harry tried to pull away his wrist. Ginny's hold tightened on him and her nails penetrated his skin,

"Owww…Ginny, you're hurting me."

He could push her away forcefully but that would be like providing Ginny with ammunition with his own hands. If he hurt her accidently, she would use it against him… in fact…he knew that she was counting on it...She wanted him to hurt her so that she could use it against him. She pushed him back against the couch and climbed into his lap. Her grip remained on his wrist and he could feel the warm blood running in rivulets into his palm. She gripped his chin with her other hand,

"What about the hurt you've caused me?"

There was a manic look in her eyes and an utterly evil grin twisted her lips as he stared into her eyes trying to look terrified, when in truth, he didn't feel anything. He was very proud of how fearful he sounded when he spoke,

"Ginny…Please…Let's talk about this like reasonable adults."

Ginny laughed, and Harry grew certain that she was a bloody psychopath. She pulled out a pocket knife from inside her jeans and flicked it open before resting it on his throat,

"There's no need to talk. I just want you to say that you love me, and you'll stay with me."

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience. His fingers were itching to strangle the life out of her,

"I can't…"

She clamped her hand over his mouth and he was forced to open his eyes

"Don't finish that…Don't you dare finish that…Say it…SAY IT!"

He rested his head against the back of the couch and made sure that he held her gaze. She removed her hand from his mouth and leaned over him. Her red hair fell over his face and tickled him. She traced the blade over his neck and whispered softly,

"If you don't say what I want you to then I will kill you. I will bury you in the back yard and no one will know…Your relatives would certainly be happy to be rid of you."

He was bordering on the very edge of his patience. It would take him less than a second to reverse their positions and have that knife in his hand. It would take him an additional second to sever Ginny's carotid artery and end her worthless life. But, alas, he couldn't have everything he wanted. If he grabbed the knife from her, his finger prints would be all over it and he could get accused of attempted murder or attempted rape, depending on whatever story Ginny wanted to weave.

Ginny didn't know the first thing about slitting a throat though or about murdering someone in general. Her hair were all over the place…plenty of evidence…and she wasn't wearing any gloves. She was holding the knife all wrong and the spot where she had it positioned over his throat was just way off mark. Well, he wasn't complaining about her lack of knowledge since it was working to his advantage but her sheer dim-wittedness just got in his nerves. She should have done her bloody research at least. She leaned away from him and ran a finger down his cheek,

"You're so handsome, Harry. I just knew that I had to have you from the first moment I laid my eyes on you. I know you love me, Harry. I've seen it in your eyes…"

He had to bite on his tongue to hold back a laugh. Ginny was a fool if she thought that she could ever have him. He belonged to no one and it would stay that way until the day he died. And as for the love part, he'd always been imagining creative ways to kill her at the moments when he'd wanted her to see that he was truly and absolutely enamoured with her. Ginny was just being utterly insane, and he'd had about enough of this bloody drama. She should have gagged him first. Well, he'd make her realize her mistake now. He drew in a silent breath and then shouted for help at the top of his lungs. He hissed when Ginny made a shallow cut on his throat before shouting,

"I'LL KILL YOU!... I'LL KILL YOU!"

The twins strolled into the room holding a GoPro and wearing big bright grins,

"And cut…"

Ginny dropped the knife and turned to glare at them,

"What are you up to?"

Harry took advantage of her momentary distraction and squirmed away from her before jumping to his feet and putting as much distance between them as he possibly could. He hadn't been counting on the twins to be here and record everything, but he was extremely glad that they had. He ran a hand over his throat and assessed the damage. The cut wasn't that bad. He raised his arm and looked at the spot where Ginny's nail had sunk into his skin and repressed a shiver. He looked like he'd been clawed by a lion. Ginny looked at them with a wild look in her eyes,

"You planned this…All of you planned this against me."

The twins shook their heads and laughed,

"No…your poor, innocent ex-boyfriend had no idea we were here. If we hadn't recorded all that, you would have killed him though."

Fred sat him down in an arm chair and began assessing the damage,

"He can press charges if he wants to."

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and grinned,

"I can just say that he was trying to violate me, and I did it in self-defence."

George laughed,

"You're forgetting the video. We'll gladly provide it as evidence."

Harry leaned back in the arm chair and spoke,

"I'm not pressing charges, but this is over, Ginny… It's over between us."

Ginny looked at him murderously and before she could shriek at him again, he spoke,

"If you try to threaten me, I swear I'll go to the police and I'll give them that video as proof."

Ginny took a step back and George spoke,

"Let's get you checked over."

Fred pulled on a pair of gloves, went to the couch and grabbed the knife from where Ginny had dropped it before dropping it in a clear plastic evidence bag,

"More proof."

Harry resisted the urge to grin. The twins were amazingly smart, he had to give them that and they had just ensured that Ginny would never bother him again. George pulled him up to his feet and held the handkerchief over his throat,

"You're bleeding you, mate. Come on…"

He looked at the couch and spoke,

"My bag."

Fred retrieved it from behind it and he allowed George to steer him to the car and deposit him in the back seat where he slumped back and closed his eyes,

"Thanks, I guess…"

The twins laughed together,

"You were incredibly calm for someone who was about to have their throat slitted."

Harry chuckled hoarsely and opened his bag before replacing his notebook in the secret compartment as discretely as possible. He didn't want the twins to find it if they decided to go through his stuff,

"I wasn't really in danger. I could have overpowered her if I'd wanted to."

Fred turned to look at him with a serious expression on his face,

"Yeah, you were pretty safe. Nott was just about ready to rush in and pry her away from you. He's the one who informed us."

Harry frowned,

"Nott?"

Fred smiled,

"Our butler."

Harry closed his eyes and relaxed in the seat. He couldn't help but smile at how smoothly everything had gone over. Yeah, empathy definitely paid off sometimes.


	23. Chapter 23

Of course, the twins didn't take him to the hospital. They took him back to the motel room and made him settle down on the bed. Fred took his time taking off his shoes and Harry figured that the twins were having a blast, having him back at their mercy. He couldn't understand why they found him so appealing. He could be charming when he wanted to be, but he hadn't been charming around them. In fact, he'd been quite the opposite the charming.

When they were sure that he was comfortable. George opened the bag and pulled out a wooden box. Harry stared at it suspiciously for a moment and Fred chuckled,

"You can relax. We're really not going to hurt you."

Harry rolled his eyes and ran his fingers over the comforter,

"Excuse my wariness but you guys have proven that you're capable of anything"

The twins snickered together, and George opened up the box. Harry noticed several Phials, flasks and jars organized in it. Everything about this just screamed trouble. If Ginny was a psychopath, then her brothers couldn't be far off. Had he jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire?

Fred smoothed his forehead with his thumb and murmured,

"We're not going to feed you a love potion or anything like that, if you're worried about it."

Harry narrowed his gaze at them,

"That thought hadn't crossed my mind but since you voiced it, I'm definitely not drinking or taking anything from that box."

The twins sniggered,laughed and Fred pulled out a phial filled with a bright orange colored liquid,

"This is a potion to help with the pain."

The description didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made him all the cautiousmore wary but apart from that, he felt a spark of curiosity,

"Potion? As in the stuff that evil witches brew to do wicked things…"

George huffed,

"That's so stereotypical. Not all witches are evil and not all potions are for wicked things."

Harry ran a hand over his constantly bleeding throat and closed his eyes. The cut had been shallow but combined with the place on his wrist where Ginny had ripped into his skin with her nails, he was bleeding a little too much. It was making him feel light headed and extremely dizzy which wasn't a good sign. He needed his wits about to deal with the twins. He had no idea what their intentions were and the not knowing was bothering him. He fought the darkness bordering on the edge of his vision with everything he had.

He had to be back in an hour. His uncle was coming home tonight, and it was going to take a lot of begging and groveling in front of his aunt to dissuade her from telling Uncle Vernon about his absence last night.

George's hand on his cheek forced him to open his eyes,

"Are you feeling alright?"

Harry managed to grin despite the exhaustion that was assaulting him,,

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

The twins shook their heads, wearing matching expressions of concern and Harry once again, tried to comprehend why they acted like they were concerned about him,

"I'm fine. I need to go."

He was about to get up when the twins stopped him together by putting a hand on either of his shoulders,

"Not before we fix you up."

Harry shot them a withering look and shook his head,

"I'm not drinking anything you have to offer me. We're not at that level of trust yet. Besides your sister just tried to kill me. What's to say that you don't want the same thing? You swooped in on me out of nowhere… told me things that I didn't know about myself…Give me one good reason why I should trust you." and

The twins exchanged a glance before pining him with an intense look,

"Because we really do care about you."

Harry couldn't stop the fit of giggles that escaped from his lips, but he managed to rasp out breathlessly,

"Right, that's absolutely hilarious."

It took a moment for him to regain control of himself but once he did, he spoke,

"No one cares about anyone in this world without a motive. I'm trying to figure out what your motive is."

Fred heaved a sigh and George put the phial back in the box,

"Harry, you have every right to be suspicious but trust us when we say that we really don't want to see you get hurt. You've been through enough already…we just want to alleviate your…"

Harry sat up straight and managed to get on his feet before cutting Fred off,

"No, I don't need your help."

His head spun but he managed to stay upright. He noticed that his breathing was shallow all of a sudden and his heart was beating a little too fast to be normal. He knew the symptoms...He knew he was going into hypovolemic shock. Damn it! Could things get any worse for him?

His vision blacked out and his knees gave way. Any port in storm. He'd have to trust the twins after all. Fred and George were holding him up in an instant and laying him back on the bed. He felt the rim of the phial being held to his lips and drank down the liquid without a fight even though it went against all his instincts. Another potion was being held to his lips and he gagged at the foul taste. A hand on his shoulder stilled him,

"It's a blood replenishing potion. It tastes disgusting, but you need to keep it down."

He couldn't even manage a nod. He felt one of the twins wipe away the clammy sweat from his forehead and pull the covers over him. He was absolutely hating how helpless he felt. He didn't enjoy depending on anyone. One of the twins ran a hand through his hair and whispered,

"You need to sleep."

He didn't want to sleep. He had to get up and go now. His uncle was going to skin him alive…he was sure of it.


	24. Chapter 24

He stared at the door and steeled himself for the beating he was sure to receive. It was dark now. He'd been unconscious for four hours, but it was nothing short of a miracle that he was standing on his feet right now. The potions really had worked otherwise he would have still been under. The twins had bandaged his wounds and right now he was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater to conceal them.

He liked the sweater, it was going to conceal all the other bruises, his uncle was going to put on him. He sighed. Sometimes he wished, he could just run away. He could leave if he wanted to but that would mean walking away from what was rightfully his. He wasn't going to let all his suffering go in vain. He wasn't going to walk away now when he was so close to getting his due payment.

He looked at the door again. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. He knocked, and the sound was like a death knell. He had put his phone in the bag because he really couldn't afford for it to break during the beating. The door was opened by his Aunt. She was wearing all her makeup and one of her best dresses…Odd…She only wore that to parties. The vile sound of his Uncle's laughter reached him and something inside him relaxed. His uncle was in a good mood and most probably with his friends. He wouldn't beat him in front of them.

His Aunt gripped his upper arm and hissed,

"You'd better be on your best behaviour, Boy. Do not embarrass us in front of our guest otherwise, you know what your uncle will do to you."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little puzzled. He wasn't supposed to come in front of guests. His Uncle had absolutely forbidden it. What had changed today? His Aunt released his arm and went about straightening his hair out. Harry could only stand there and stare at her in bewilderment. What the hell was going on? She took his bag from him and placed it next to the coat stand,

"Wipe that expression off your face and smile."

Smile…Yeah right…His mind was reeling, and he was trying to make sense of this. Why did the Dursley's have the sudden urge to include him in their gatherings?

"I could just go to my room."

His Aunt glared at him murderously and spoke,

"No, you are going to the living room with me and you are going to keep your mouth shut and smile."

He closed his eyes and nodded. Nothing about this felt right but maybe he should feeling grateful. Maybe, he could avoid the beating altogether if his Uncle was pleased with him. He'd have to make this work so he plastered a smile on his face and followed his Aunt into the living room, where his Uncle was sitting on the couch…well more like crushing it…His Uncle smiled when his gaze locked onto his and the expression deeply unsettled him. It was like a cat grinning after devouring a canary. It didn't belong on that pudgy face. His Uncle got up from the couch and Harry practically heard it sigh in relief. His Uncle thumped him hard on the shoulder and spoke,

"This is my nephew, Harry."

Harry finally took the time to look at the mysterious guest. The man was large, well built, with a lined face. He had grey hair and blue eyes. The man grinned at him and Harry saw how pointed his teeth were. There was something vicious about him. He couldn't shake the feeling no matter how hard he tried. He was dressed to the nines in an expensive looking suit and exuded a condescension that only came with money. The man patted the space on the couch beside him and Harry turned to look at his Uncle. His uncle nudged him ever so slightly and he took a step closer to the man before offering his hand,

"Harry Potter."

The man took his hand and shook it but didn't offer his name. Instead, he spoke in a low rumbling purr,

"Nice to meet you, Harry."

His Uncle's voice boomed out from behind him,

"Don't just stand there, Harry. Sit down."

His Uncle went back to reclaim the couch and his Aunt took the armchair. So, the only empty space for him to sit was on the couch beside the man. Steeling himself he sat down beside him and noticed that Dudley wasn't there. Where was he? He was the usually the one who was present when his Uncle brought home anyone important. His Aunt and Uncle loved boasting about their son's meagre achievements in front of their guests. The man's voice forced him out of his musings and he was forced to look up at him and meet his blue gaze,

"Vernon was just telling me that you attended Saint Brutus's Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

The man laughed, and Harry felt every hair on his body stand on end,

"Parcit virgae, spolia puer."

Harry could only nod… Spare the Rod, Spoil the child…That had been the motto at Saint Brutus and they'd definitely stuck to it,

"Yes, I studied there."

The man rested a hand on his shoulder and something about his touch made his skin crawl. He wanted to get up and leave but that wouldn't be worth the pain he would have to endure later. His Uncle barked,

"Now that Harry is here, we should eat."

Harry resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He refused to believe that these were his relatives…the same relatives who'd never cared about his presence or whether he ate or not. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that something magical had happened and changed their attitudes overnight. He was about to get up to set the table when his Uncle spoke,

"Your Aunt will take care of everything."

Aunt Petunia left the living room to set the table and the man spoke again,

"Your nephew doesn't talk much."

Harry scoffed. He had a lot to say but keeping his mouth shut now was better than being beaten to a pulp later. His uncle laughed and chatted with the man about business and politics and Harry tried to pick up on his name, but his uncle never said it. He always referred to him as Sir. His Aunt called out that dinner was served, and Harry debated whether he was supposed to join them. He'd never been allowed at the dining table in all the years, he'd spent with his relatives. His Uncle put an end to his conflict,

"Come on, Harry."

Harry rose to his feet and followed his Uncle and the man to the dining room. Once again, the only vacant chair left was beside the man. He didn't like being close to him. There was something extremely wrong with him. The man spoke up,

"Harry, how old are you?"

His uncle was about to speak up when the man narrowed his gaze at him and he shut his mouth. Okay…Harry had never seen anyone shut his Uncle up like that. He had never seen him intimidated but this man…this man had accomplished it with just one gaze. So that could only mean one thing, he was indeed someone very rich and powerful. He realized that the man was waiting for him to reply and spoke,

"Seventeen…I'll be eighteen in less than a month."

The man grinned ferally but didn't say anything else. He decided to concentrate on his food but the man didn't stay quiet for long. All through dinner, he asked him about his hobbies, his interests and everything else in between. Harry tried not to let his frustration show because he was itching to ask the man about a hundred questions of his own starting with what his name was and ending with why the bloody hell he was so interested in him.

He mentally commended himself when he hadn't voiced any of his questions by the end of dinner. After a few drinks the man left, and Harry mentally prepared himself for a pounding even though he'd been on his best behavior. He knew his Uncle all too well and the man wouldn't begrudge himself a chance to take out his frustration.

But none of that happened. After seeing off the man, his Uncle simply told him to clean up the kitchen and go to bed before disappearing in his bedroom. Harry could only gape at his back but quickly shook off the daze and got to work hoping that his Uncle didn't change his mind in the middle of the night.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry glared at the ceiling and gnashed his teeth. He was restless. His mind was a whirlpool, swift, unprogressive and incessant, a torrent of thoughts leading nowhere, spinning round swift and steady. In his sleeplessness, he was drunk on silence. It had seeped into his pores, dowsing his mind in its thick toxicity. The usefulness of his thoughts had left long ago, leaving those fatigued neurons to fire almost randomly…flailing without direction. He wanted so much to not to think at all, he wanted to be absorbed into the darkness that the night promised. He wanted to awaken, refreshed to streaming white daylight, unaware of the hours between then and now. But as usual his wishes mean nought.

There was a tenseness to his muscles that made him more like a mannequin on the thin mattress than a living, breathing person of flesh and bone. He want so much to melt onto the foam, wrapped in eider-down, and drift into the world of dreams. Yet his brain was a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in his life. It sought to discover a way to control the capriciousness of people, means to acquiesce and charm them so that their encounters were laxer, less draining. Of course the task was pointless, life was far too random for a human brain to take the billions of factors that come together to form just one day for one person. Though his conscious brain knows all this but  his subconscious remains stubborn in its attempts to protect him, to ensure his survival. Ironic really, what he really need to survive tomorrow was sleep, at least six hours would be nice. But for that to happen he would have to be out in less than five minutes and he knew that the odds of that happening were laughable.

That man had shaken him…something about him had just put all his senses on high alert. If only he had gotten his name, he could have researched him and put himself at ease. On top of everything else, he was deeply unsettled by his relatives’ behaviour. His Uncle hadn’t even locked his bedroom door tonight. Something was up and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to rest until he got to the bottom of it.

Sighing, he got up and grabbed his bag from under the bed. Opening it up, he extracted his notebook from the secret compartment. He could go and visit Tom. There was still plenty of time until dawn but it was too risky. The way his Uncle was behaving was just rubbing him the wrong way. His uncle was waiting for something. It was almost like he wanted him to sneak out. No, he definitely wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

He flipped the notebook open and looked at the last entry he’d made in it. Stretching his legs out, he put the notebook in his lap and tapped his chin with the pen.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Lord Voldemort

He flipped to the next page and wrote the two names down vertically. This time he wrote Lord Voldemort first and then Tom Marvolo Riddle. He stared hard at the alphabets…everything screamed that there was definitely a connection. He then proceeded to write all the characters in alphabetic order

He couldn’t help but grin when he saw that the alphabets matched. Lord Voldemort was an anagram for Tom Marvolo Riddle. Sneaky Bastard. Fate definitely wanted him to know everything about him. That’s why he’d been lucky enough to find out his middle name. Marvolo…That was a very essential piece of the puzzle. He imagined that anyone else would have had a hard time figuring it out since he had a feeling that Tom would have kept his middle name secret. The twins hadn’t known Lord Voldemort’s real name and they probably hadn’t known any of the children’s’ name. Speaking of that, he pulled out his phone and turned it on. Surely enough the twins had sent him the pictures, along with the video of Ginny trying to slit his throat. He repressed a laugh as he watched the video first. He was ridiculously happy to be finally rid of her. He scrolled to the picture of the children and his grin was instantly replaced by an expression of murderous rage. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill Dumbledore painfully slow if he ever met him in real. He stared at Tom and couldn’t help but run his finger over his expressionless face, but pain filled eyes. Once again, he found himself burning to know their colour.

The curse…There had to be a way to break it. Something told him it wouldn’t be as simple as a kiss. But a kiss was worth a try. He smirked as he ran his finger over his lips. He was really losing it, wasn’t he? He was thinking about kissing a possibly dead guy. There was a word for that, right? Necrophilia. Well…if he was being fair, he really wasn’t attracted to Tom...not like that…not in a sexual kind of way. It was pure curiosity that made him do, what he did.

And then there was something else...something about him not having the aptitude for magic. He absolutely despised not knowing how to do something or being told that he lacked in something. He had an urge to master everything he came across. He had mastered the piano and every other instrument he could get his hands on at Saint Brutus only because he couldn’t settle for mastering a single instrument like everyone else had done. When he’d been fifteen, he’d taken an interest in criminology. Saint Brutus’s library had really satiated his craving for information and in a span of six months, he had read and re-read every book he could get his hands on. After that he’d developed a fascination for psychology…especially criminal psychology. Well he didn’t like the name of the field because it was his firm belief that criminals were people too. They were just misunderstood, mentally ill and formerly abused human beings. They weren’t born that way, they were created. But anyways… he was morbidly captivated by learning about how criminals thought, understanding their intents…their actions and reactions…

It was then, that he realized that he might be a tad bit psychopathic himself. He was an excellent liar. He felt no remorse in using people to his advantage. He was charming when he wanted to be and could get anyone to do anything if he wanted to. He wasn’t bothered by it one bit. Everyone used everyone for their personal gain. There was nothing wrong with that.

Anyways…magic…now that the twins had brought it up, aptitude or not…he knew he wouldn’t be able to breathe until he mastered it. Tomorrow, he was going to check the library first and then if there weren’t any books there then he might have to buy them. He picked up his bag and pulled out the watch Ginny had gotten him. He reckoned he could get a couple of quids for it…enough to afford some books. He had the option of asking the twins, but he really didn’t trust them. It was better that he learnt it on his own. Besides, how hard could it be?

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest gratitude to Topa for the wonderful playlist. Seriously I've been listening to Mr. Fear and The Wolf by Siames on repeat for the past three days. Its seriously addicting. Anyways if anyone else wants to check it out, the link is  
> Wine for the Dead, Poison for the Living: https://open.spotify.com/user/106oq9mdgxf51xiv1sdf4d18n/playlist/4A2GZEQ54N92ttN0hxALBR?si=DuNnmTopQk2EXHguVDVqqA
> 
> Apart from that I would like to specifically thank thoughtfullycoolbasement, StarOfFeanor, Fangirlfourlife17, It_is_I, MarvelousMarvelite, Momma_Time, shadowemerladeyes4, sanctuns, crimson_scarlet789 and InMyWildestDazedDreams (xxCAPXLOCKxx)   
> Love you all!!!! You guys keep me going

He'd been scowling at the magic section, which, by the way, consisted of one scantily populated shelf in the library, for the past five minutes. He'd been stupid to think he'd find anything useful here. All he'd found were books on how to perform bloody magic tricks. If he'd been considering a career as a children's party entertainer then he might even have considered reading them but since that wasn't the case, they were useless to him.

He'd been researching magic on his phone last night but none of it had seemed legitimate. He pulled out his phone again and typed in dark magic. He was only met with a list of pages he'd already visited. He added book shop to the search and a location popped up. It was a small shop that he'd passed by countless times but never paid much mind to. The owner was a crazy lady who thought she was a seer, but Harry considered her to be a fraud. It was worth a try although he was sure that he would probably end up wasting his time and newly acquired money.

He'd pawned off the watch and gotten more than he'd expected for it. He made his way out of the library, smiled and greeted everyone he encountered on the way to shop and even helped an old woman with her groceries. God, when was he going to be free from this place? He was so sick and tired of playing the role of a polite, well behaved guy.

He stared at the small shop front and looked at the fake fortune ball in the display window. Yeah, he was definitely wasting his time but he had to play nice with the crazy lady. It was definitely going to be torture. He stepped into the shop and the bell on the door went ding, announcing his presence. The heavy, overwhelming scent of incense dominated his senses and he coughed. He heard the shuffling of feet and then the woman came into view. Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. She was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in gauzy, spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

Harry finally spoke,

"Madam Trelawney…"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence because Trelawney had shoved one of her ringed fingers over his lips,

"Ssshhh…Ssshhh…Do not talk…."

Her eyelids drooped, and her lips parted as she explored his face with her hands. It was taking him all his strength not to push her away or take a step back. She definitely seemed intoxicated. There was a very strong smell of cooking sherry coming off of her and Harry resisted the urge to gag as she drew closer to him.

It seemed like a lifetime before she pulled away her hands and opened her eyes with a gasp,

"Oh, my dear boy…"

Her magnified eyes were full of fear and wonder as she led him to sit down in one of the cushy armchairs before sitting down opposite him and spoke,

"You need a cleansing."

Harry tried not to let his disinterest show,

"A cleansing?"

She nodded fervently, picked up a ragged looking pouch and grabbed a fist full of some glittery powder before getting up and sprinkling it all over him. What the hell? It was taking him all the patience he had to sit still and not jump to his feet,

"A cleansing…Yes… There is a dark presence around you…"

Harry inwardly sighed. She probably pulled this act on everyone,

"A dark presence?"

Trelawney gripped his wrist and turned his hand, palm facing upwards. She ran her fingers over the lines and nodded,

"A very sinister presence…"

Her eyes closed again as her fingers moved from his palm and traced circles around his wrist,

"Do you not feel the chains?"

Harry leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He might as well relax because this crazy train didn't seem to have intentions of stopping soon. He knew he was expected to speak so he said,

"What chains?"

Trelawney tsked,

"Such cluelessness…"

She released his wrist and Harry opened his eyes just in time to see her sit across from him again,

"A claim has been staked on you."

He crossed his arms over his chest,

"By who?"

She whimpered before whispering,

"He who must not be named…"

He wanted to laugh so hard…seriously…he who must not be named…that was just a brilliant way to con people. He who must not be named… it definitely eliminated the need to guess a name,

"Why not? Why can't he be named?"

She kept her mouth shut and shook her head. This was getting tiring,

"Listen, Madam Trelawney…I just came here to buy some books…Could you direct me to the books section?"

She stared at him with her mouth agape before getting up, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him,

"You do not believe me, do you?"

Harry shook his head and spoke as politely as possible,

"I do believe you, Madam."

She shook him harder,

"Then you do not understand the severity of your situation."

Okay, he was officially done. He rose to his feet and she took a step away from him,

"He will kill you. You have been marked. He will engorge himself upon your blood."

Blood…that sparked something…This could all be a very convincing act, but he needed to be sure. He took a step closer to her,

"You can't say his name?"

She nodded, and Harry pulled out his notebook, flipped to a blank page and handed her a pen,

"Write it down."

Her fingers trembled as she took the pen but made no move to write down the name. Harry drew in a deep breath and spoke as softly as possible,

"Go on, Madam…Writing it down won't hurt you."

Her hands continued to quake as she wrote down the one name, that kept popping up everywhere around him, in a messy scrawl.

_Lord Voldemort_


	27. Chapter 27

Harry sat back down and stared at the name for a few moments. Somehow, he still wasn't willing to believe that there was any truth in what Trelawney had said. This could all be a scam,

"What can you tell me about him?"

She made a puzzled sound and he looked away from his notebook and met her confused stare,

"I want to know more about him."

She sat down and chewed on her lower lip,

"What do you wish to know?"

Harry leaned back in his seat,

"Everything."

Trelawney looked at him like he had lost his mind but nevertheless she started talking,

"He…He was the most fearsome dark wizard of all time…"

Harry tuned her out. He already knew all this. What he was really interested in was knowing what people thought had happened to him. Several times, he wanted to cut her off and tell her to skip to the end but that would seem rude. He noticed that Trelawney took a special interest in narrating all of Voldemort's atrocities. Harry had no doubt that she was overexaggerating just so he would take her warning about being marked for slaughter seriously. When she got to the part about the curse, Harry began to listen intently,

"They say that the curse destroyed him. Most people believe that he is dead. Even his most loyal followers believed that he was gone. The order started capturing them and killing them off and that is why they all went into hiding."

Harry finally interrupted her,

"If he'd dead then why should I worry about being killed by him?"

She looked around the small shop fearfully before leaning forward and whispering,

"I believe that he is not dead."

Now this was interesting. He schooled his excitement and asked,

"Why do you believe that?"

Her ring encrusted fingers clenched the shoulder of his jacket and she trembled,

"He gained immortality."

Harry bit back a sigh of disappointment. He already knew that,

"If he's immortal and alive then why hasn't he killed me yet?"

Trelawney rose to her feet and began pacing around the shop furiously as she wrung her hands. Her anxious movements were making him feel dizzy, so he asked a question to distract her,

"Why does he want to kill me anyway?"

She halted and then looked at him,

"Because you're Harry Potter. I made the prophecy that stated that you would be his downfall. He wanted to kill you that night. Your parents cursed him and foiled his plans. He has a whole list of reasons for wanting to kill you. I imagine that revenge is at the top of it."

Harry wanted to bang his head against the table. She knew who he was. This was just confusing because he didn't know whether or not to believe her. Okay, so Voldemort wanted him dead. That part he was willing to believe. The part that seemed unbelievable was that he was marked. She must have seen the disbelief in her eyes because she spoke,

"I can show you."

He hoped like hell that she wasn't planning to show him an illusion. She stepped closer to him and rolled the sleeve of his jacket back along with the sleeve of his shirt. She ran her fingers over his wrist and started muttering something under her breath. Harry stood still and bit back a gasp when he saw a toxic green glowing chain wrapped around his wrist. He tried to touch it with his other hand, but his fingers passed right through. This wasn't real. It wasn't real. There had to be a holographic projector here somewhere. It had to be an illusion. If she was a witch, then she could surely make him see things that weren't there. He pulled her hand free from her and the chain vanished.

Harry ran his fingers over the spot where it had just been and then spoke,

"That wasn't real."

She smiled ruefully,

"Your skepticism is highly disappointing."

He pushed his notebook into the pocket of his jacket and spoke,

"I am not being skeptical."

Harry pulled out his wallet and spoke,

"How much do I owe you?"

She shook her head with a sad smile,

"I require no physical wealth from you. The only thing you owe me is your belief. I only wish to save you."

He replaced his wallet into his pocket and looked around the shop as he recalibrated his thoughts. At first, he'd been thinking that she was doing all of it for the money but this changed things. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with what she would gain by making him believe. If that chain around his wrist was real then he wanted to get rid of it. He didn't like the idea of being marked or claimed. He belonged to no one,

"You said I needed a cleansing."

She nodded eagerly and he asked,

"A cleansing would get rid of that chain?"

She pursed her lips,

"Possibly."

Harry raised his eyebrows and repeated,

"Possibly?"

She stepped closer to him and spoke,

"Possibly. It may or may not work."

Well there was no harm in giving it a try, right?

"So, what is a cleansing?"

She sat him back down in a chair and spoke,

"There are several types of cleansings, but I will perform a purification spell on you to rid you of the dark presence and its marks."

He was about to say something when she shushed him and continued,

"You will need to take a bath infused with some particular herbs and cleansing salts."

Harry leaned back against the table and spoke,

"Okay. I'll do it."

She beamed and patted him on the cheek,

"Good. But I cannot perform it today. I shall need to boil the ingredients and then I will need to place them in the sun to absorb all those radiant energies for a day. Could you come here at sundown on Friday?"

That was going to be a problem. He wasn't sure about what game his uncle was playing and that was why sneaking out at night wasn't a great idea. Friday was way too soon,

"Could you move that to next week?"

A worried frown creased her face and she spoke,

"You must not delay this."

He tapped his fingers on the table and spoke,

"I've lived this long. I'm sure I can survive till next week."

She nodded uncertainly before disappearing through the curtain. He stood there for a moment contemplating whether he'd lost his damned mind. How could he trust Trelawney? She was as crazy as they came. Well, he had nothing to lose. This purifying spell might even work to get rid of that dubious chain around his wrist. He had way too many reservations over the entire situations. The first one was the existence of the chain. The second one was Trelawney's intentions. The third was the spell she wanted to try on him. Well he could go on and on about the reasons he couldn't Trelawney. Before he could think any more, she remerged from the curtain holding a black box.

She set the box down and opened It up to reveal that it was filled with silver jewellery. He stared at it dubiously and she spoke,

"Silver is incorruptible and pure. That is one of the reasons why it repels evil, impure creatures. If you wear it then I have no doubt that it will protect you from dark influences."

She extended the box towards him and he hesitated,

"I don't think I can afford that."

She crossed her arms and looked seriously offended,

"I have not asked you for a payment."

This was just extremely puzzling. Why didn't she want any money? Oh well, it was her loss. He rummaged through the box to pick out a pendant, an armband and two rings. She smiled at his selection,

"You should put them on now."

He pulled on the pendant and concealed it under his shirt. The armband was trickier to wear because he didn't want to take off his shirt in front of her so for the moment, he was content on wearing it over his shirt and pulled on his jacket over it. The next thing he pulled on were the rings that were basically plain silver bands. Upon closer inspection he realized that they weren't so plain. There were tiny symbols etched all over them. He'd never worn so much jewellery before and wearing it now made him feel too flashy. He knew he'd have to hide them before getting home. She handed him her card and spoke,

"Call me when you are prepared to go through the purification spell."

He nodded before depositing the card in his pocket. She clapped her hands,

"I believe you came looking for books."

Before he could say yes, she was leading him through the curtains and into a large room that had bookshelves lining three walls while the fourth one was covered in cabinets,

"Take whatever catches your fancy. It's all free for you."

Harry stared at the shelves that were lined with old tomes and grinned. He'd definitely hit the jackpot. But it did nothing to change the fact that he still didn't trust Trelawney one bit. No one was purely altruistic. Everyone had an ulterior motive. There was a reason why children were warned not to accept sweets from a stranger. It was dismaying how so many people forgot that when they grew up.


	28. Chapter 28

Harry was at the corner of the street when he spotted a black Mercedes parked in front of Privet Drive. Not good. Not good at all. He had a feeling that the man was back. He pulled out his phone and opened the camera app, zoomed in as much as he could and aimed it at the number plate. The shot was extremely pixelated, but the number was visible enough. He was thinking hard about what he was going to do when an idea struck him, but he wondered whether it would yield any results. To hell with worrying about results. He dialed the twins and hoped like hell that they picked up. He breathed out a sigh of relief when Fred spoke,

"Hey, Harry."

He didn't have the time for niceties,

"Can you find out the name of the owner if I send you a picture of the license plate?"

Fred was silent for a moment before speaking,

"Yes, we can, but, what are you up to?"

He looked around and then spoke,

"Nothing. How soon can you find it out?"

There was another pause and Fred spoke,

"It'll take us some time to get into the system. We haven't done anything like this before so can't say."

Harry sighed. He'd been expecting this but well something was better than nothing,

"I'm sending you the picture now. Send me the details ASAP."

He ended the call and wondered what his next course of action should be. He wasn't a coward but sometimes avoidance was necessary to survive. Something told him that avoidance wasn't a good idea in this case. It was nearly dark and if that Mercedes was any indication then his uncle was at home with that rich stranger. No, a confrontation was definitely in order, but he needed to be smart about it. He pulled off the rings from his fingers and slipped them into the inner pocket of his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he started walking towards the main door.

He was about to knock when his uncle pulled open the door. The menacing expression on his chubby face told him that he was in for a thrashing. His uncle grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in,

"Where the hell were you, Boy?"

Harry noticed how hard his uncle was trying to be quiet. He took off his bag and placed it by the coat stand as he spoke,

"I was at the library, Uncle."

His uncle muttered curses under his breath and then ground out,

"Go into the living room and do what you're told silently."

He knew that questioning his uncle was pointless, so he walked in to the living room and found the man from yesterday sitting on the couch again. The man grinned, and his blue eyes lit up with pure delight,

"Harry, you made me wait quite a while…You should realize that I'm a very busy man and time is money."

Harry forced his hands into his pockets and said,

"I was at the library. If I'd known you were waiting for me, I would have been back sooner."

The man laughed…well it was more of a cross between a bark and a howl, and spoke,

"Yes, I believe that you are not at fault. My decision to visit you was sudden."

Harry was about to speak when the man rose to his feet,

"I came to take you out to dinner."

Harry nearly lost his composure then…dinner…with this guy…Why would someone like him want to take him out to dinner? He was about to ask that when the man said,

"I'm sure you won't decline."

He really didn't feel good about this. His uncle spoke up from behind him,

"Of course, he'll go."

The man glared viciously at his uncle and spoke,

"How about Harry tells me that?"

Harry resisted the urge to grin. He could tolerate any man that could make his uncle look that weak,

"Sure, why not?"

The man clapped his hands and barked,

"Excellent. We should get going then."

Harry couldn't help but speak,

"Shouldn't I change?"

The man scanned him from head to toe and spoke,

"You look good enough."

He walked out of the room and Harry was about to follow when his uncle grabbed his shoulder and spoke,

"You'd better keep your mouth shut, Boy."

Harry nodded when internally he was itching to open his mouth as soon as he was alone with the man. His uncle began leading him outside and he allowed himself to be led. The car door was being held open for him by a driver and he got in. The driver closed the door and Harry realized that the windows were tinted black. Once the car was in motion, he turned to look at the man and saw that he was grinning at him, Harry fought to keep his own off his face and his features perfectly schooled,

"You mentioned that you were at the library. I'm assuming that you enjoy reading."

Harry nodded,

"Yes, I do."

The man frowned,

"You didn't mention that last night."

Harry was literally burning to know why his interests were his concern but bit his tongue. Not yet. He was still soaking in the warmth from the car heater and he didn't want to get kicked out yet,

"It must have slipped my mind."

The man smirked,

"Any other interests that might have slipped your mind last night?"

Harry smiled and shook his head,

"None that I can think of at the moment."

The man looked pointedly at the space between them and crooked his finger, signalling him to scoot closer. Harry ignored his signal and straightened up. He was done warming up. Now it was time for him to get all his questions answered,

"First off, I'm not your puppet or your pet and I will not tolerate to be treated as such. Secondly, who the bloody hell are you?"


	29. Chapter 29

"It seems that dinner is cancelled. Andrew, take us to the field office."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the man and the man grinned at him ferally,

"I'm certain that you won't have a problem with that."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from him to stare at the black tinted glass. It seemed that his situation was going from bad to worse. He wasn't intimidated though. It would take a lot more than this to frighten him. His phone was in his pocket, but he couldn't risk taking out. At least not in front of this man.

He went over all the possible outcomes of his situation. The best-case scenario was that the man turned out to be a saint, treated him well and sent him on his way. Which was highly unlikely. Any man that terrified his wicked uncle couldn't be a saint. The worst case was that the man was on a whole new level of evil and he was in bigger trouble than before. The likelihood of that being the case was almost one hundred percent.

Well…now that he'd established that what would he do if things went south? He had his lock pick set in his jacket along with his phone, silver rings and notebook. He had his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He had always thought about keeping a pocket knife on his person but never really gotten around to it. He was really regretting that decision now. There was a chance that his pockets might be emptied. Not that he was going to allow it but if they were what was he going to do then? He would just have to try his damndest not to let them do it. Okay another thing that came to his mind was what would be do in case he was assaulted? That was very easy. He'd dodge and run because he had a feeling he was going to be outnumbered. He had a feeling he was headed into some very deep waters but coincidentally he knew how to swim. There was nothing that could faze him. Towards the end, the ride became incredibly bumpy and Harry was forced to guess that they'd gone off road.

The car came to a halt and the door was opened by Andrew. He stepped out and looked at the warehouse that stood in the middle of nowhere. A quick survey of his surroundings told him that his guess had been right. They were somewhere out of town and a dirt road had led them here. He tried listening for sounds of traffic but when he heard none, he assumed that they were a long distance away from public traffic. They perimeter of the warehouse was surrounded by trees and he had to cut off running from his escape plan. The warehouse itself was single storey and two strongly built mammoth guards stood at the entrance. He was definitely in deep waters. The man came to stand beside him and spoke,

"Come, Harry."

Yeah, as if he had any other option. He followed him into the warehouse and watched the way the guards bowed their heads at his approach. The interior of the warehouse was designed as a utilitarian office. There was a desk set in the middle with an ergonomic office chair set at one side and two wooden straight-backed chairs on the other. Harry noticed two more doors out of which one was being manned by another guard, similar to the ones he'd seen outside. The man sat down and signalled him to take a seat.

He sat down, and the man slid a sleek black card towards him face down. He took it off the desk and flipped it over to read what was written on it. There was only a name along with a number and an email address,

"Fenrir Greyback. That's your name?"

Greyback smirked and nodded. He placed the card back on the table, leaned back in his seat and spoke,

"Well, whoever designed your business card, did an awful job."

Greyback raised an eyebrow but the amusement was visible in his eyes,

"Why do you think that?"

Harry picked up the card again and held it up,

"A business card isn't a business card if it doesn't state your business."

Greyback laughed his weird laugh again. When he had sobered up, he spoke,

"Your uncle described you as docile and extremely submissive and that is the impression I got of you yesterday."

Harry balanced his seat on the hind legs and swung his legs over the table, crossing them at the ankle so that the soles of his shoes were facing Greyback,

"And what do you think of me now? Do you still believe that I'm a sweet, harmless little boy who'll do as he's told?"

Greyback rose to his feet and Harry saw what he'd been expecting all along. Lust…an overwhelming amount of lust in Greyback's blue eyes,

"No, it seems I've stumbled upon a diamond."

He tipped his head back and held Greyback's gaze as he spoke calmly,

"Well, since you brought up my uncle, I want you to tell me what scheme you're cooking up with him."

Greyback took another step closer and Harry didn't dare break their eye contact. He made sure that he kept his face clear of any emotions. It took a moment but Greyback finally yielded and cocked up an eyebrow,

"Your uncle is selling you off to me."

Harry ground his teeth internally. He should have known that his uncle would try something like this when he was so close to getting his due right. He had to give him some credit for his cunning though. The man had thought he could rid himself of him, make some money out of it and then rob him of his inheritance all in one fell swoop. He buried his anger somewhere deep underneath. This wasn't the time or place to express his anger. He needed a way to foil his uncle's plan. He could already see the beginnings of a strategy forming in his head and inquired coolly,

"What do you do?"

Harry saw the hint of confusion in the man's eyes and elaborated his question,

"You didn't tell me about your business."

Greyback leaned against the desk and spoke,

"I own a restaurant chain."

Harry shook his head and swung his legs off the desk,

"No, that's just the front you use. What do you really do?"

Greyback's lips curled up in a sneer,

"You're definitely smarter than you let on."

Harry made a show of inspecting his nails and spoke,

"You should know that your deflection tactics won't work on me so why don't you just answer the question and get this over with."

He looked up and saw a flicker of annoyance in Greyback's eyes,

"It was your idea to bring me here, in the middle of nowhere. We could have had dinner in some nice public place and you wouldn't have had to face these questions."

Greyback sneered,

"I did ask your opinion on the matter."

Harry feigned surprise,

"I didn't know my opinion mattered. And by the way, you didn't ask for my opinion, you just told me yours and assumed that I wouldn't have a problem with that."

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and spoke,

"You're still deflecting my question."

Greyback growled…literally growled and Harry smirked when he spoke,

"I run a drug cartel."

He took a step forward and spoke,

"What interest could a drug lord possibly have in buying me?"

Greyback chuckled,

"I met your uncle at a formal dinner a few days ago. He made me an offer, I simply could not refuse."

Harry wished he had a knife so that he could stab Greyback with it in the throat and do the same to his uncle but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Keeping his expressions schooled, he asked,

"You deflected my question again."

Greyback scowled at him,

"Companionship."

Harry laughed. Yeah, that was definitely hilarious,

"You want to buy me as a companion? Is that the sugar-coated version of a sex slave?"

Greyback grinned cockily,

"Yes."

Harry tapped his lips with a finger and then spoke,

"Well, why didn't you say that sooner? You don't have to pay my uncle when I'm so willing to be yours for free."


	30. Chapter 30

Greyback threw his head back and laughed heartily. Harry waited for him to stop and then spoke,

"I have a condition."

Greyback drew closer to him and he stood his ground. There was a low rumble in his voice when he spoke,

"A condition?"

Harry nodded and ran his fingers through his hair,

"As you already know, I'm turning eighteen in less than a month."

Greyback nodded,

"Yes, your uncle mentioned that."

Harry traced a pattern on the polished surface of the desk and spoke,

"I want to wait till I'm eighteen."

Greyback lips curved into a wicked grin and he raised his hand to touch him. Harry took a step back and spoke,

"Didn't I just say that I want to wait till I'm eighteen before you touch me?"

Greyback balled his hand into a fist and Harry could see how hard he was trying to keep his temper under control. It seemed like no one had ever told the man no. Greyback seemed like a guy who was accustomed to getting what he wanted well he would be hugely disappointed when it came to him. A man like Greyback was sure to be an asset in the future. But, he wasn't as dim witted as he looked. There was a sharpness in his eyes…something predatory….and that something told him that it wouldn't be easy to manipulate him. He was treading on very thin ice here,

"Can I know the reason behind your condition?"

Harry affixed Greyback with his best coquettish expression,

"It's not like I'm saying no. Believe me when I say that I'm dying to be touched by you. You're exactly my type, tall, dark and handsome."

Greyback's gaze grew hooded and his lips parted slightly. Harry's gaze ventured down, and he noticed the obvious bulge in his pants. Greyback was aroused and he hadn't even touched him yet. His voice was a tad bit rough when he spoke,

"What would it take for me to change your mind and take you right here and now?"

Harry made sure to keep his attitude perfectly flirtatious and lowered his voice several octaves lower to a much more seductive tone,

"You can't. I'm an extremely stubborn bastard and I never change my decision, once I've made it."

Greyback laughed softly as he adjusted himself,

"I like you, Harry… I like you a lot."

Harry smiled charmingly,

"I like you too, Mr. Greyback…I like you too a lot."

Greyback retreated to his seat and settled down. He sat down as well. There was a smug look in Greyback's eyes and everything about his body language just screamed that he was the kind of happy when someone found buried gold while digging for scraps. Oh, Greyback was definitely in for a ride he would never forget. The sound of the warehouse door opening caught his attention and he turned around to see Andrew walking in. He was holding a briefcase that made Harry feel extremely curious. He placed it on the table between them and spoke,

"The files you requested, Sir."

Greyback grinned savagely at the sight of the briefcase. Andrew walked across the desk and came to stand exactly behind him. Greyback unclasped it and opened the lid. Files…What files? He didn't have to wait long for his answer though. The briefcase was turned around and Harry pulled out the first file. He was a bit surprised to find Saint Brutus's distinct logo on it. He placed it on the table and shuffled through the rest of them. They all had the Saint Brutus emblem printed on the covers and there were exactly seven of them so that could only mean one thing. They were his annual assessments.

The teachers at Saint Brutus conducted an assessment at the end of every year which consisted of a series of medical and psychological tests. Along with that the performance in curricular and extra-curricular activities was observed and the combined scores was evaluated and noted down in a file. No one except the principal and teachers was allowed to view the assessments. They were highly confidential and only provided as evidence if the student ever got in trouble with the law in the future.

If Greyback had gotten access to his assessments, then he had definitely underestimated him. The man was more powerful than he'd originally thought. Another thing that was bothering him were the assessments. He had no idea what was in them and he didn't like not knowing. Greyback pushed the briefcase aside,

"I had them pulled out this morning since I needed to know more about you. It took a lot of effort to get to them."

Greyback made the money whisk gesture and Harry internally rolled his eyes. Yeah, money could unlock any door,

"Have you read them?"

He smirked and shook his head,

"I was hoping that you would read them to me."

Harry looked down at the file and traced the wretched emblem with his finger,

"Really?"

Greyback sounded way too pleased and spoke,

"Yes, I adore your voice. Now start reading."

There was a hint of a command there and he never took well to those. He pushed away the file and stared Greyback dead in the eye,

"What if I don't?"

Greyback licked his lips suggestively and leaned back in his seat,

"I'd bend you over the desk and teach you how imperative it is that you obey me."

Harry faked a yawn and whispered nonchalantly,

"You can certainly try."

Greyback chuckled darkly,

"You really have no idea who you're dealing with and its very endearing to see how much you believe that you're in control of this situation."

Something cold came in contact with the back of his head and it took him a second to guess that it was the muzzle of a gun. He was already calculating how much force it would take to disarm Andrew and grab it. But even if he did, he was still outnumbered. No, a weapon wasn't going to help at this point. He needed to play it smart. Greyback thought of him as nothing more than an over confident child. The gun was there to scare him and turn him into a frightened, sputtering teenager who would beg for his life. He had two choices now. He could either go with what Greyback thought of him or he could call him out on his bluff. The first option was smart but the repercussions weren't in his favour. If he acted scared now, Greyback would toss his condition aside and most possibly take him on this very desk. The second one wasn't so smart but it would keep Greyback at bay for the time being.

He didn't really have a problem with sex since he was certain he wouldn't feel it but it was the principle of it that mattered. The sex card was reserved for extremely desperate situations. He wasn't that desperate now. Greyback wanted him and craved him. He wouldn't have him shot in this warehouse…not when he'd gone through enough trouble to get his assessments. Calling him out on his bluff was the best course of action. He looked Greyback in the eye and spoke calmly,

"Tell him to shoot me."

Greyback's eyes widened with surprise. He certainly hadn't expected that. Victory sweetened his mouth. But now wasn't the time to feel triumphant. He leaned back against the muzzle of the gun and repeated,

"Tell him to shoot me."

Greyback signalled Andrew to lower the gun and Harry rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward,

"I told you in the car that I'm not your puppet or your pet. You can't tell me what to do."

Greyback glowered at him and Harry added with a wink,

"But if you treat me right then I can be the sweetest thing you've ever seen."

Greyback's anger melted away instantly and a feral grin curved his lips,

"Would you please the read the files to me, Harry?"

Harry flashed him his most cheeky smirk,

"With pleasure."

He opened up the first file. It was a little thicker in volume than all the rest. He realized that it contained his initial medical report of the time when he'd been examined as a part of the admission procedure. It felt a bit surreal to be staring at pictures of his eleven-year-old self, dressed in nothing but a pair of blue shorts from different angles. He was scrawny and nothing but skin and bones. Splashes of purple stained his pale skin as he stared at the camera man expressionlessly. He realized now that he should have smiled then. It would have been the perfect contradiction.

If he was allowed one murder…just one…he would kill his uncle as slowly and painfully as possible. He would drag out his misery for days and when his uncle would beg him for death, he wouldn't give to him…he wouldn't give him death…he'd give him life again only to tear him back down and destroy him once again. He'd do that over and over again until he was sure that he'd taken his revenge for every single blow his uncle had dealt him. Greyback's words forced him out of his homicidal thoughts and he blinked up at him as he internally cursed himself for slipping,

"What happened?"

He shook his head but it was too late because Greyback had already plucked the file out of his hand. Harry saw something like rage flash in his blue eyes before it was gone as he, no doubt, stared at the picture. He could use that to his advantage. He could definitely use this to his advantage. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Greyback go through the rest of the file by himself. He really wasn't bothered by what was in them because he could turn anything into his own advantage. It took about half an hour for Greyback to go through the rest of the files during which he did nothing but stare at the wooden pattern on the desk and plot his uncle's demise in a thousand different ways. It was his favorite pastime. Finally, Greyback broke the silence and spoke,

"I'm impressed."

Harry looked up and either Greyback was a damned good actor or he really was impressed because the admiration in his gaze was undeniable. Harry wondered what was in those assessments and he was itching to read them,

"According to your files, you're an overachiever. Your scores have been beyond exceptional throughout your time at Saint Brutus. They say that you've mastered the Piano, the Violin and the Guitar among other instruments. Apart from that you've been a model student with an impeccable record that is highly unusual for anyone that has ever attended that school. You were captain of the cricket team and played on the rugby team as well. You're highly skilled at chess…"

Greyback paused as Harry revisited all the moments he'd achieved those things. He'd never been satisfied…he still wasn't and he was sure he never would be…

Greyback leaned closer to him,

"There are nothing but good things about you in these files. You're highly intelligent, you'd do extremely well if you decide to study further and decide to pursue a career of your choice. All of this begs the question, why your uncle wants to sell you off so badly."

Harry laughed softly and rested his chin atop his entwined fingers,

"I suggest you ask him that."

Greyback cracked his knuckles,

"Oh, I certainly intend to."

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and instantly knew that the twins had come up with something. He was itching to know what it was but to get his phone out, he needed to get away from Greyback first. He rose to his feet,

"I think we should call it a night now."

Greyback eyed him and stood up as well,

"Yes, you're right."

Harry looked at the briefcase pointedly and spoke,

"I want those."

Greyback smirked,

"You can have them."

Harry was about to reach forward and pick them up when Greyback tsked,

"Andrew will take care of that."

He began leading him out of the warehouse and back to the car. Andrew trailed after them and opened the door. He got in and Greyback followed suit. Once they were on the road again, Harry stared at the black tinted glass once more, wondering how much benefit he could gain from Greyback and thinking about an exit strategy when he'd gotten everything he wanted.

Outside Privet Drive, Harry held the briefcase in one hand and was about to wave Greyback goodbye when unexpectedly, Greyback stepped out of the car and spoke,

"I need to have a word with your uncle."


	31. Chapter 31

He was getting bloody sick of Greyback. He really couldn't stand to spend another minute with him. On top of everything, he was dying to see what the twins had dug up. He exhaled and knocked on the door. Andrew stood behind them like a silent sentinel. His uncle opened the door and grabbed him by the collar in his customary greeting. He was forced to release him when his gaze fell upon Greyback and Andrew standing behind him. Harry watched the colour drain from his face and held back a smirk. His uncle took a step away from him and smiled nervously,

"M... Mr. Greyback…I wasn't expecting you…"

He stepped aside to let Greyback through and heard him speak,

"I couldn't resist."

Harry nodded a sheen of sweat coat his uncle's broad forehead. Greyback grinned,

"Won't you invite me in, Vernon?"

His uncle laughed anxiously,

"Come in, Mr. Greyback…"

Greyback grinned and stepped into the hallway. His uncle glared at him behind his back and he shook his head indicating that he hadn't said anything to Greyback. Harry hoped that his uncle had the brains not to say anything about his inheritance. He noticed that his bag was still by the coat stand. He picked it up. It was heavy with the weight of the books, he'd gotten from Trelawney. He reckoned that Greyback wouldn't want him around for this conversation,

"I'm going to my room."

Greyback shook his head,

"No, your presence is required, Harry."

Harry silently sighed as placed the briefcase and the bag on the floor. He was doomed for a migraine. He followed his uncle into the living room. Greyback settled down in the armchair and Andrew went to stand behind him,

"Sit down, Vernon."

His uncle sat down on the couch. Greyback looked at him for a moment before speaking,

"Sit, Harry."

There was a hint of a command in that and he refused to obey as he silently rested his elbow against the wall and leaned against it casually. A ghost of a smile crossed Greyback's face and he spoke gently,

"Please, take a seat, Harry."

Harry took the armchair and folded his hands in his lap. Greyback turned his attention back to his uncle. His uncle spoke,

"Has he done something wrong?"

Harry inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course, his uncle would naturally assume that he'd done something wrong. Harry was willing to bet that he was already thinking about roughing him up. Greyback chuckled darkly and nodded,

"Yes, he has."

Harry leaned back in the armchair. He couldn't understand what Greyback was playing at but he was certainly intrigued. His uncle dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief and spoke,

"Mr. Greyback, I apologize for whatever he did and he'll apologize too… Boy, get here this instant and apologize to Mr. Greyback."

Harry internally groaned. He couldn't believe he still had to play docile in front of his uncle. He didn't know that he was aware of the deal he'd struck with Greyback and also he didn't know about the new deal that he, himself had struck with Greyback. He was about to rise to his feet when Greyback shook his head,

"There's no need for that. I have reached a decision."

His uncle was sweating profusely, and his handkerchief was worthless in easing his predicament,

"Mr. Greyback…don't…don't call of the deal…please…"

Lights, camera, action…Harry feigned surprise and asked in his most panicked voice,

"What deal?"

A terrified look stole over his uncle's features and Greyback smirked. His uncle looked ready enough to fall at Greyback's feet and beg him not to tell him and not to cancel the deal. Harry rose to his feet and repeated,

"What deal?"

Greyback gazed at him appraisingly and Harry saw the way his eyes twinkled with amusement. He was enjoying the show,

"Why don't you tell Harry about our agreement?"

Harry stood there staring between Greyback and his uncle. It was bloody exhausting to act but it was necessary. When his uncle didn't speak, Greyback spoke,

"Your uncle is selling you off to me."

He brought up his most upset and betrayed expression and took a step back,

"You can't be serious."

Greyback nodded solemnly,

"Do I seem like the type to jest around?"

Harry leaned back against the wall and shook his head as anxiously as possible. He was imagining how dramatic it would look if he ran from the room now when Greyback spoke in what he considered a soothing voice but to him it sounded utterly creepy and ruined his plans,

"Sit down, Harry. We will discuss it."

It was a request and he complied hesitantly. He looked at his uncle and his uncle glared back at him. Finally he turned to look at Greyback and Harry noticed a hint of arrogance in his uncle's tone when he spoke,

"With all due respect, there are several other sharks who'd be willing to gobble him up, Mr. Greyback."

Harry sighed. How was he supposed to react to that? He was about to get up when Greyback spoke,

"Relax, Harry. You won't be harmed."

He sank his nails into the cushioned arms of the chair and tried to seem as distressed as he could,

"You're talking about selling me like I'm some inanimate object and I'm supposed to sit here and listen to it? And you…Mr. Greyback, you're talking about buying me and I can't even imagine all the things you plan to do to me..."

His uncle cut across him and growled,

"Shut your mouth and sit still or else…"

He leaned back in his seat and pulled up an expression of utmost desperation. Greyback smiled,

"You shan't be hurt, Harry."

Harry shuddered dramatically and wrapped his arms around himself. Greyback turned to his uncle and spoke,

"Anyways, I came here to inform you that I'm highly impressed by your nephew. Harry is mine now. You will consider him my property and if you attempt to sell him off to someone else or attempt to deceive me in any way, I shall kill you. I shall not tolerate it if a single hair of his is out of place by the time I pick him up."

His uncle frowned,

"You are not taking him along now?"

Greyback shook his head,

"I'm leaving for New York tomorrow. It shall not be possible for me to take Harry along now. He shall stay here, and Andrew will check up on him every day."

Harry smirked internally. A month of immunity from his uncle's beatings and unlimited freedom. Lady luck was definitely grinning down at him. But now wasn't the time to celebrate, now he had to play the part of a distraught teenager. It killed him a little inside and he fell at his uncle's feet,

"Don't do this to me…Please…Uncle Vernon…Please don't do this to me…"

His uncle shoved him away,

"Calm yourself, Boy!"

Greyback rose to his feet and spoke,

"You're mine now, Harry. Take care of yourself. I shall see you soon."

Greyback stepped out of the room and departed with Andrew in tow. Harry knelt on the rug for a while with his face buried in his hands as he pretended to cry. His uncle laughed ecstatically,

"Did you hear that, boy? Did you hear that? Your insignificant being is finally worth something."

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for fortitude. His uncle patted him on the bed after rising to his feet and spoke,

"You can run if you want to. But you know perfectly well that if you leave you'll lose your inheritance and Greyback won't leave you alone. He'll hunt you down, he'll find you and he'll take you. Your welfare is in your own hands now. The sooner you accept your circumstances, the better."

He faked a broken sob as he heard his uncle walk away. When he was gone, he pushed himself to his feet and finally grinned. Dusting his clothes off, he thought about all the ways he was going to use his new-found freedom.


	32. Chapter 32

Grabbing the briefcase and his bag from the hallway, he made his way upstairs to his room and sat down on the bed. The first thing he did was that he pulled out his notebook and began jotting down everything Greyback had told him about himself. When he was done, he pulled out his cell phone and checked the message, the twins had sent him. He wasn't the least bit surprised or terrified to learn that the car was owned by Greyback, who the twins had said was a werewolf, notorious for his uncontainable rage and bloodthirstiness among the magical circles. It seemed kind of fitting, given his personality and his demeanour. He tapped his lips with the pen as he thought about all the things that could have gone wrong tonight. Greyback was capable enough to rip him to shreds if he deemed it fit but he'd gotten lucky in that respect.

He pulled out the contents of his jacket pocket and placed them on the bed in front of him. Picking up the rings and examined them. Greyback hadn't touched him the entire time but if he had, Harry was sure he would have been burnt…Maybe…He wasn't sure about what silver did to werewolves…There was a chance it could be just another cliché. Maybe silver did nothing to werewolves. Well, in that case he'd truly been lucky.

And if it had been the other case, the one in which silver truly was hazardous for werewolves then in a way, he'd been protected even though he hadn't even been aware of it. He definitely had to thank Trelawney for that. Speaking of Trelawney, now that he had his freedom, he could go through with the purifying spell on Friday as she had suggested. He pulled out the card she'd handed him and began typing that into his phone. It took him less than a minute to send her a message saying that he would be available at sun down on Friday.

He jotted that down with his other notes and frowned as he realized that he only had about fifteen to twenty blank pages left. It irritated him that he would have to cram the new information in those pages. The thought of it just made him shudder.

Sometimes he desperately wished that he was normal. He wanted to be bothered by normal thing like normal people. He stared at his notebook again and flipped through the pages with his thumb. A normal person would probably buy a new notebook without any qualms, but he couldn't…he just couldn't buy a new one until he finished the mystery he'd started on this one. Getting a new notebook was just unthinkable.

He placed the notebook on the side table and stared at the wall as he contemplated what he needed to solve that mystery and wake up Tom. A way to break the curse. That was all he was missing. He'd unraveled most of Tom's past and now all that he needed was a way to wake him up and free him from that crypt. Trelawney had told him that he'd been marked for death by Tom. Well, if that was the case then waking him up was like signing his own death sentence. He had no intentions to die. But leaving him there in that crypt was just improbable.

He pulled the rings over his fingers and shrugged out of his jacket. The armband caught his attention and he ran his finger over the sleek surface. Toeing off his sneakers he huddled into his blanket and pulled the briefcase towards himself. Opening it up, he pulled out the files and opened the first one. Once again, he was met with the pictures of his eleven-year-old self and he pulled one of them out and placed it on the side. It took him an hour to study all his files and when he was done, he leaned back against the headboard and laughed softly. These files were a joke. They didn't depict him, they only depicted the skin he wore. He'd been stupid to think that there would be anything incriminating in these files. He'd underestimated himself. No one was capable enough of piercing through all his layers and seeing the real him and he was going to make damned sure that it stayed that way.

He looked at his picture again and ran his fingers over the eyes that were too mature…too lifeless for an eleven-year-old kid. He pulled up the picture of Tom on his phone and then compared them. They were practically the same but there was only one thing that set them apart and that was the despair in Tom's eyes. His misery had just been beginning then. He couldn't fathom how hard it must have been for him. No, he wouldn't leave him in that crypt. His gaze went back to the picture of himself. There was no despair in his eyes and that was only because he'd already witnessed hell and grown accustomed to it. It had taken him a few more years to make it his home but he had. He'd made it nice and cozy enough for himself to be comfortable in it. If someone took a picture of him now, he was capable of smiling like the most carefree person in the world…he could make his light up with non-existent joy. No one would be able to tell what was going on inside of him.

Shaking the thoughts off he got up and pulled out a cardboard box from underneath the loose floor board. He deposited the picture inside it and replaced the box. He stuffed the rest of the files in his bag and emptied the briefcase. He needed to burn them down and Riddle Manor was the perfect place. But not tonight…he didn't have many hours left until morning. Trying to sleep was useless so he pulled out one of the books he'd gotten from Trelawney and started reading the first one that was named, "An introduction to Magic."


	33. Chapter 33

When he went down to make breakfast the next morning, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his Aunt was already on it…well sort of on it…The smell of something burning was intolerable. He got an intense kind of satisfaction seeing her slaving over the stove. She turned around and Harry noticed the sweat on her forehead. She glared at him like his presence was a personal offense to her. Well, he could always worsen her misery,

"I think the bacon's burning, Aunt Petunia."

She spun around to salvage the bacon and then spat out,

"Go and wait in the living room with your cousin."

He spoke as politely as he could,

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

She shook her head and bit out,

"You uncle and I have decided that you shall not be doing any of the housework from today. After all you're a guest in this house for a few more days."

He casually leaned back against the doorway and watched his aunt mess up the breakfast. He yearned to see his uncle eat that. He proceeded to the living room and found his cousin sprawled on the couch with the phone in his hand. He looked up at him as he approached and smirked,

"I heard you had quite the night."

He sat down in the armchair, Greyback had been seated in last night and snagged the newspaper from the coffee table. It was better he didn't indulge him, Dudley spoke again,

"I imagine Greyback will take good care of you."

Harry didn't miss the underlying sarcasm in Dudley's voice but decided to ignore it. Apparently, Dudley was on a mission to tick him off because he spoke,

"I've heard he goes through a new boy toy every week and then makes them disappear."

He'd read that too last night when he'd been researching him, but he was determined to make Greyback realize that he wasn't going to be his boy toy and the man wouldn't be able to make him disappear. Greyback might be a werewolf but he would be damned if he was intimidated by him. This was just another challenge and he loved challenges. He adored them…He lived for them.

His uncle stepped into the living room and Harry noticed that evil glint in his eyes at the sight of him. Dudley went back to staring at his phone. His uncle settled down in the other arm chair and signalled him to hand over the paper. He did silently, and his uncle spoke,

"I'm glad to see that you've decided to accept your fate."

He stared hard at his shoes. His uncle was so very wrong. He was making his own fate…writing down his own luck…His uncle smirked and spoke,

"Enjoy your last days here. You'll be gone in a week."

He wanted to laugh. Greyback had done an amazing job of stalling his uncle last night. If he kept that up, he'd get his inheritance and get out of here…away from his uncle and out of Greyback's reach as well,

"Andrew will be visiting you this afternoon. Make sure you keep your mouth zipped shut around him…"

He nodded silently but he was irritated. Why did Greyback have to put Andrew on his guard? He didn't want that or need that. His Aunt looked utterly haggard as she stepped into the room and spoke,

"You'd better hire a maid, Vernon. I refuse to work in that bloody kitchen."

He rose to his feet and silently exited the room as his Aunt began complaining about her nails and her skin. It took him a minute to put on the rings, along with his jacket, grab his bag and head out. He'd shifted the armband under his shirt this morning and had left the pendant untouched. He grabbed an apple himself from the local produce store and was just on his way to Riddle Manor when his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and realized that it was the twins. He didn't want to talk to them, but he couldn't sever ties with them yet. He took the call and Fred spoke,

"Where did you take the picture of the license plate you sent yesterday and why did you need to know about the owner."

He adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag and sighed,

"So many questions. I saw it parked it in my neighbourhood, thought it was odd, took a picture and sent it to you."

It was George that spoke,

"You're obviously lying. What are you up to, Harry?"

He pursed his lips as he thought about what to say and then spoke,

"I'm not up to anything. Why do you guys always have to assume the worst of me?"

George snickered,

"Because you are the worst."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that,

"True. But, this time it was nothing but honest curiosity."

The twins seemed to believe him to some degree because after telling him to be careful and warning him off of Greyback, they ended the call. He knew they weren't going to drop it though. The twins had proved themselves to be tenacious, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about that. He pushed his phone into his pocket as he continued to make his way to Riddle Manor. It took him fifteen minutes to get there. Instead of going through the front door like he usually did at night, he walked to the back and stared out at the swamp. He wanted to touch the hanging reeds from the heavy tree branches and feel the muck and grime that floated on the surface of the water against his fingertips. There was something wicked about all of this and he could almost hear it howling out his name. The reeds reminded him of monsters, with long, spindly fingers dripping with acid and decay, that would reach out from the pits and grab hold of whatever they could find. Tearing his gaze away from the swamp he stepped into the Manor through the back door and without any delay made his way down to the crypt where he received a huge surprise when he realized that the door was locked, and he couldn't get in.

 


	34. Chapter 34

Harry shoved at the door, trying to force it open. He couldn't understand why it was locked. Had someone been here? It had been a while since his last visit. He took a step away from the door and leaned back against the wall as he thought about all the possible reasons why the door was locked. The most probable one was that someone had been here and locked it. Another one was that Tom might have awoken…He shook away that thought as soon as it emerged…If he had woken up, he wouldn't have locked himself in the bloody crypt. It made no sense whatsoever. No, Tom's awakening was out of the question. Someone else had been messing around here. Another reason could be the day. He'd always visited Tom at night so maybe the crypt was always locked during the day. There was a darker thought that was lurking deep beneath…What if someone had harmed Tom? No…He refused to think like that. The thought of him hurt or worse was like a knife on his gut. Tom was fine. He had to be fine.

Well, locked doors had never been a problem for him. In fact, he considered them a personal taunt to his efficiency. He set his bag down and procured his lock pick set from the pocket of his jacket. Kneeling beside the door, he examined the lock and grimaced when he realized that it was incredibly rusted. On the bright side, it didn't seem broken or damaged, so he definitely had a chance. He inserted the torsion wrench in and determined which way the key was meant to be turned. When he had that, he pulled out the torsion wrench and replaced it with the pick to investigate the pins.

An hour later, he growled in frustration and began packing away his kit. He couldn't believe he'd wasted an hour on this door. Shoving his kit back into his pocket, he wondered what he could do now. He could get some lubricant, get the rust off and try again, or he could wait for the night and hope that the door unlocked itself. Somehow, he was highly doubtful about the latter, so he pulled out his wallet and checked how much money he had. It was more than enough to buy a can of lubricant. Checking the time, he figured that he might as well leave now. Andrew was supposed to visiting in the afternoon and as much as he was tempted to skip that, he couldn't. He didn't want to give Greyback a reason to take him away before the month was up. He gave the door one last withering look before grabbing his bag, turning away and leaving.

Half an hour later, he was just emerging from the hardware store when two very familiar voices greeted him together,

"Hi, Harry."

He groaned inwardly and turned around to face the twins,

"You two can't stay away from me, can you?"

They grinned and Fred spoke,

"You're absolutely irresistible."

Harry batted his eyelashes at them and cooed,

"Flattery won't get you anywhere."

He pulled off his backpack and dropped the can of lubricant that he'd just purchased into it. The twins eyed it before asking,

"What's that for?"

Pulling his bag back over his shoulder, he spoke nonchalantly,

"A drawer in my room. Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

He began walking towards Privet Drive and the twins fell in step with him,

"We don't actually believe that you're up to nothing, so we came to ask you."

Harry snorted,

"You say that like I'll tell you."

The twins huffed,

"Of course, you will."

Harry stopped and raised an eyebrow,

"You're too full of yourselves and that'll get you killed."

The twins pointed towards the café across the street,

"Why don't we sit and talk?"

Harry pursed his lips thinking hard about what he could hope to gain from this. The twins had all the makings of good allies. Maybe he could use their skills after all. He didn't have to trust them to use them so why not?

"Sure."

Once they were seated around a table and the twins had ordered coffee, Harry spoke,

"What do you want to talk about?"

George pulled out his phone, swiped on it a few times and then held it out to him. There was a black and white grainy picture of him getting in the car while his uncle stood back. The date and time were stamped at the bottom left corner of it and Harry tried to assess where they'd gotten that picture. The angle suggested the CCTV camera outside Mr. Smith's house. He couldn't deny that he was impressed. He swiped back and there were pictures of Greyback emerging from his car. Swiping forward, there were pictures of him getting back in the car and leaving. Okay, so the twins had definitely been busy,

"Last night wasn't the first time you met him, was it?"

Harry shook his head and swiped through the pictures until he saw the pictures from the first night Greyback had visited him. He knew that by the date and time that was plastered on the shot,

"How'd you get these?"

The twins shook their heads,

"The real question is what someone like him was doing at your place?"

Harry was about to speak when the waitress put down their coffees and sandwiches. He grabbed one from the plate because he was definitely starving. After he had chewed and swallowed, he spoke,

"He's an acquaintance of my uncle's."

The twins glared at him,

"That's a bloody lie."

He smirked,

"Nope, it's not."

The twins were about to speak, when he bit out,

"You didn't let me bloody finish."

The twins picked up their cups and spoke,

"Finish then."

He leaned back in his chair as he took another bite of his sandwich,

"My uncle is selling me off to him."

Harry watched the way their eyes widened in shock and the way they choked on their coffee. He handed them both napkins and grinned,

"You're looking at me like you've never heard of that happening before."

The twins wiped their mouth and shirt clean before exclaiming,

"Have you lost your bloody mind?"

He took another bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a sip of coffee,

"He's a werewolf, Harry. For crying out loud, he has a reputation for…"

He'd heard enough of that and cut them off,

"Yeah…Yeah…I know…He kills off his boy toys when he's done with them…"

The twins sighed looking aghast,

"Why are you allowing this to happen? You can leave if you want to…You can run… No amount of money can be worth more than your life."

And that's where they were wrong. It wasn't just about the money anymore. It was a matter of thwarting his uncle. It was all about coming out on top. He had a habit of excelling at everything and getting that inheritance was proof that he had successfully conquered his uncle,

"Where did he take you last night? Did he…"

The question hung in the air for a while and Harry smirked,

"Did he what?"

The twins gritted their teeth,

"You know…Did he have sex with you?"

He placed his elbows on the table, entwined his fingers and rested his head over them,

"Why does that bother you?"

George shook his head in frustration,

"Because you're a bloody psychopath and psychopaths have no regard for their own well-being. They love taking unnecessary risks and that's what you're doing."

He chuckled darkly and shook his head. They were right, of course. He was taking a risk…it just wasn't unnecessary. Greyback was powerful…he was someone who knew people, someone who could make things happen…If he found a way to exploit that then the risk would definitely be worth it,

"I know what I'm doing. You guys need to chill out and relax."

He finished his sandwich and downed his coffee in one before getting up,

"I have a drawer to fix so I'll see you guys around. Thanks for the coffee and your concern but I'm doing great so there's really no need for you to worry."

He picked up his bag from the floor and was about to walk away when George spoke,

"You should know that you can call us if your plans go awry."

Harry laughed,

"Sure, I will."

And with that, he pulled his bag over his shoulders and walked out of the café. His insides twisted painfully at the thought of Tom and that locked door, but he struggled not to dwell on it too much and pushed the matter to the back of his mind. Right now, he had to get back to Privet Drive and once he was done with Andrew, he was heading straight back to Riddle Manor and getting that door open…no matter what it took…


	35. Chapter 35

It took him fifteen minutes to reach privet drive. The shiny black car parked in the driveway told him that Andrew was already here. He knocked on the door and it was opened by a none other than his aunt. She glowered at him silently before stepping aside and letting him inside. He stepped into the living room and found Andrew seated in an arm chair and sipping a cup of tea,

"I need to talk to you somewhere private."

Andrew regarded him with his cool grey eyes before setting his cup down and getting up to his feet. He walked out of the living room and he followed. Harry pulled off his bag and tossed it in the back seat before getting in the front. Once they were on the road, Harry made himself comfortable before speaking,

"You're a pretty terrible security guy."

Andrew tore his gaze away from the road and raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question,

"Someone was able to track your boss's movements by the security cameras on my street. Now, it doesn't look suspicious when he's getting out of the car and going into a house, but it does look suspicious when he emerges from it with a teenager in tow and given you boss's peculiar tastes it can be used against him."

Andrew clenched his jaw but didn't say anything and his silence got on his nerves. Of course, he wasn't concerned about Greyback at all. No…he was looking after his own interests. He didn't trust the twins and the fact that they'd been running surveillance on him bothered him a lot. He needed to be more cautious now.

He stared out the windscreen and memorized the sign boards. He had an inkling to where Andrew was taking him, but he could be wrong. He was hoping he was wrong. After what seemed like half an hour's drive, Andrew took a sharp turn and they were back on that dirt road. Soon enough he saw the warehouse in the distance and groaned internally. No…this what not what he had meant when he said he'd wanted to talk privately. Well, he had a feeling Andrew would have brought him here even if he hadn't said that so there was no point in worrying about it.

The car came to a halt outside the warehouse. He grabbed his bag from the backseat before getting out and making his way into the warehouse. Greyback was seated behind the desk and exuded an air of superiority. He absolutely hated it. He grinned when he saw him approach and Harry wanted nothing more than to punch it off his face. He dropped his bag on one of the chairs and snapped,

"Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"

Greyback feigned offense and spoke,

"I thought you'd be happy to see me."

He sat down in the other chair and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Well, I'm not."

Andrew came to stand behind Greyback and Harry shot him a pointed stare and spat out,

"I was just telling your bodyguard that he's doing a terrible job of protecting you."

Greyback cocked up an eyebrow,

"What makes you say that?"

He smirked and repeated what he'd told Andrew in the car and was extremely satisfied by the rage that sparked up in Greyback's eyes,

"I suppose you won't tell me who that someone is, will you?"

Harry shook his head and leaned back in his seat,

"Nope, not a chance. All I want you to do is take care of the cameras on my street."

Greyback signalled Andrew to come closer and spoke,

"Get it done."

Andrew nodded and stepped back. A smile curved Greyback's lips again as he turned to him,

"Anything else, Harry?"

He thought a moment about whether he should reveal the fact that he knew about Greyback being a werewolf. The rings were in his jacket pocket. He'd taken them off before reaching Privet Drive. The pendant and the armband would probably ensure his safety…if they really worked...But, now that he was really was seeing Greyback again, he decided that he should get that out in the open,

"You're a werewolf."

Greyback stared hard at him for a moment and Harry met his gaze head on,

"How do you know that?"

Harry tsked,

"The real question is when you were going to tell me that?"

Greyback growled and Harry cooed,

"There's no need to get so wound up over that."

He tipped his chair back and stared up at the ceiling,

"You know, I was wondering, do you tell your boy toys what you are before you drag them to your bed or after?"

Greyback voice was a rumbling purr when he spoke,

"I could show you."

Harry turned his gaze back to him and smirked,

"No thanks."

Greyback was about to get up to his feet when Harry spoke,

"I'm assuming you asked Andrew to bring me back here for a reason."

Greyback nodded,

"Ah yes, I did."

He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a box before sliding it towards him across the desk,

"This is for you."

Harry opened the box and pulled out a brand-new phone. Switching it open, he checked the specifications,

"I hope you will stay in touch with me. My number has already been programmed into it."

He opened the contacts and sure enough there were two contacts saved. One was Greyback's and the other was Andrew's,

"You could have given this to Andrew. I'm sure he would have passed it on to me. There was no need for you to have me brought here."

Greyback shook his head,

"This isn't the sole reason I had you brought here."

Harry checked the casing of the phone and ran his fingers over the bezel, looking for cracks or scratches and spoke,

"What are the other reasons?"

Greyback sounded irritated when he spoke,

"What the hell are you looking for?"

When he didn't find any of those, he began scrolling through the list of installed applications,

"Nothing, just keep talking."

Greyback made an irritated sound and he finally looked up to face him,

"Talk."

Greyback pushed a sheaf of papers towards him,

"I need you to sign these."

He put the phone on the table and pulled them towards himself before reading through them. It took him about fifteen minutes but when he was done, he affixed Greyback with his coldest glare,

"Are you kidding me?"


	36. Chapter 36

Greyback smirked,

"No, I am quite serious."

He looked back down at the contract and gnashed his teeth. His uncle had already signed it, so it was irrelevant whether he signed it or not. And even if he wanted to void it, he would have to do it through his guardian namely his uncle and his uncle would never agree to it, so he was trapped. Of course, he had the option of going to court, but he couldn't afford that financially or otherwise.

Greyback sounded way too smug when he spoke,

"What is going through that devious mind of yours?"

Harry looked up and stared hard at Greyback,

"I'm thinking about why you need my signatures on this contract when you already have my uncle's?"

Greyback smiled,

"You have read the conditions, have you not?"

He had read through them and the entire summary of the contract was that he was supposed to cohabitate with Greyback for a period of two years after which he would be allowed to go his own separate way. Two bloody years. There was no way he was signing this…no bloody way…

"Why would I willingly go from living in one prison to another?"

Greyback rested his hand on his chest and feigned offense,

"Harry, how can you say that?"

He gave him a dirty look and Greyback raised his hands,

"it shall not be a prison. You will be cherished and prized beyond your wildest dreams."

He crossed his arms over his chest,

"You know what your words make me feel like?"

Greyback eyes glittered with amusement when he asked,

"What?"

He propped his feet up on the desk,

"They make me feel like an exotic bird that's locked up in a gold cage. Now the cage can be the most expensive cage in the world but it's still a cage. You can feed it the best food, take care of it as much as you want but it's still trapped. A bird's natural instinct is to fly…freedom is in its blood...And that's the only reason they fly away as soon as they see an opportunity."

Greyback leaned forward,

"You answered your own question, Harry. With this contract I'm snipping off your wings, so you don't fly away at the first opportunity you get."

He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling,

"I don't think you'll be able to stand me for a week let alone two years…"

Greyback laughed,

"Is that a challenge?"

He shook his head,

"Nope, it's a fact. The longest time you've spent with the same guy is eight days before you made them disappear. What was his name again? Derick…Daryll…"

Greyback growled,

"Draco."

He chuckled softly,

"Yeah, Draco…I've heard his father was quite influential. It was quite the scandal…"

Greyback rose to his feet and walked towards him,

"You've certainly uncovered a lot about me in one night."

He stared up into Greyback's blue eyes,

"And you're underestimating me."

Greyback was about to reach forward and touch him when Harry turned his head to the side to avoid his fingers,

"Tell me, did you get any sleep last night, Harry?"

He smirked,

"My sleep is none of your concern."

Greyback grinned ferally,

"It will be, once you sign the contract. All your interests, your likes, dislikes, eating habits…all your quirks…they'll be my concern when you come and live with me."

He was still thinking hard about a way out of this. Signing that contract was out of the question. There was no way in hell, he was going to sign his own imprisonment. Then there was that matter of Greyback being a werewolf. Greyback could eat him alive if he wanted to. In fact, he was already skirting on that fine line between amusing him and enraging him. If he outright refused, then he might as well kiss his life goodbye. He was outnumbered, and he doubted the silver would provide him with any protection because Greyback could ask any of his non-werewolf body guards to take it off him, leaving him prone to Greyback's attacks. No, right now, he had to work on saving his skin. He had a strategy in mind now all he had to do was execute it.

Well, to be fair, he should have known that this would happen. Greyback was the head of a drug cartel. He was cunning and incredibly shrewd. Well, he was the one that had decided to play with the bag cats…well wolves…He was going to see this through to the end. If he was going to sign the contract, it was going to be on his terms,

"I'll sign that contract but…"

Greyback leaned his hip against the desk and spoke,

"But?"

He pushed away the sheaf of papers,

"But I'll do it on my birthday. Because right now, this contract holds no weight for me. I'm a minor and even if I sign it, it'll mean nothing because my uncle has signed it for me. I don't want his influence on my future. My signatures should be the only one on this contract and I'll do it by my own free will as soon as I turn eighteen."

Greyback looked annoyed for a second before he spoke,

"As you wish."

He finally allowed himself to smirk and spoke,

"I knew you'd see it from my point of view."

But just to be sure, he picked up the contract and tore it into halves and then into quarters. It wouldn't be difficult for Greyback to have his uncle sign it again, but he was certain that Greyback would wait now. After all, his birthday was about twenty-two days away. He dropped the torn contract back on the desk and then asked,

"What did you do to Draco by the way? In fact, what do you do to all your boy toys to make them disappear?"

Greyback turned to look at him and smiled predatorily,

"You'll see. In fact, I can't wait to show you."

He dropped his feet back on the ground and rose to his feet,

"You should keep in mind that you cannot make me disappear. I will not be just another toy to you."

Greyback bowed his head in mock respect,

"I wouldn't dream of it, Harry. You're special and irreplaceable…"

He laughed,

"I bet you say that to all of your toys to make them feel secure in your presence."

Greyback shook his head and feigned innocence,

"No, Harry. I do not. I certainly don't offer them contracts and indulge them the way I indulge you. Something tells me you'll prove to be an invaluable asset to me. And besides I'm not the only one that will benefit from the contract. Think of everything that you'll get out of it."

He tilted his head,

"True but I reserve the right to add some terms of my own to it."

Greyback raised an eyebrow,

"What kind of terms?"

He flexed his arms and stretched his back,

"I'll tell them to you when I have to sign it so you can have them added to the document."

Greyback shrugged,

"Fine, I'll have no reservations to your terms if they're reasonable."

He grinned,

"Of course, they'll be reasonable."

He ran his hand through his hair and spoke,

"By the way, when are you leaving for New York?"

Greyback settled back in his seat behind the desk,

"I'll be leaving on Sunday Morning. You're welcome to come along."

He tapped his lips with his fingers and pretended to think about it,

"Tempting but I'm sure I'll be doing a lot of travelling when I'm living with you so I'll have to say no."

Greyback grinned,

"You're right, of course. I simply cannot wait to show you the world."

He couldn't help but laugh at that and leaned back against the desk,

"Why don't you sing that song from Aladdin to me and maybe I'll reconsider."

Greyback chuckled softly,

"I'm certain that your answer won't change even if I do sing it."

He pouted,

"You're right. I won't change my decision, but it'll make me happy. So, sing it."

He was sure Greyback wouldn't even know the song let alone sing it, but he couldn't hold back his gasp when he started singing in his rough voice,

" _I can show you the world  
Shining, shimmering splendid  
Tell me, princess, now when did  
You last let your heart decide?"_

He burst into laughter and the desk was the only thing keeping him upright as he clutched his stomach. He was breathless, but he managed to get out between giggles,

"Okay…stop…stop...I'm not sure I'll survive another verse."

Greyback had a fond gleam in his eyes as he looked at him. He straightened up and wiped the water from his eyes,

"I'm not even going to ask how you even know that song. Oh, and for the record, I'm not a princess."

Greyback leaned back in his seat and shook his head fondly,

"Of course."

He picked up the new phone from the table, and then pulled his bag over his shoulder,

"Andrew is going to drop me off, right?"

Greyback nodded,

"Yes, he will."

He was about to walk out of the warehouse when he paused,

"When should I expect to see you again?"

Greyback smiled,

"I still owe you dinner. Why don't I pick you up on Saturday night?"

He grinned,

"It's a date then."


	37. Chapter 37

It was pouring by the time Andrew dropped him off at Privet Drive and all his plans to walk straight off to Riddle Manor without going into the house vanished into dust. Sullenly, he stepped into the house scrunched his nose up when the smell of something burning reached his nostrils. This was getting irritating. He headed straight up to his room, dropped his bag on the bed and slumped down beside it.

He was bothered by the contract, Greyback had proposed. Somehow, it made everything all the more difficult because now he knew that Greyback had no intentions of letting him leave. Of course, the strategy he had devised was going smoothly. It wasn't difficult to see that Greyback was infatuated with him. All he had to do now was to make sure he maintained that infatuation and kept Greyback wrapped around his finger. Maybe that way, he could convince Greyback to neglect the contract all together. It was difficult but not impossible.

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the rough sheets as he went through everything he'd learned today by Greyback's reactions. He pulled out his notebook and frowned at the limited pages but writing this down was important so he sat up straight, grabbed a pen and began writing down all of Greyback's reactions in the tiniest scrawl he could manage.

He smirked when he was finished and read through the list of traits he'd come up with for turning himself into Greyback's ideal lover. It wouldn't take him a lot of effort, all he needed to do was to turn up the charm and Greyback would be eating out of the palm of his hand.

That was the ideal case. If that didn't happen and Greyback still insisted that he sign a contract, then he would have to come up with some solid terms that would ensure his freedom. Running from Greyback after getting his inheritance wasn't an option because he couldn't make the mistake of underestimating Greyback's power again. The man would probably hunt him down and he had no intentions of spending his new life constantly looking over his back and worrying about when Greyback would catch up with him. No, right now, he needed all his bases covered. He was too close to getting his due right and he could not afford to mess up. If only Greyback hadn't shown up, things would have been so much simpler. He hated his uncle for that and it was a pity he couldn't do anything about that presently.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath to calm himself. The sound of the rain pouring down was getting on his nerves and he felt like throwing a temper tantrum and breaking something. Tom could he hurt or worse and he was sitting here idly. He grabbed his bag and was out of his room before he knew it. He almost ran into his uncle at the base of the stairs who smirked when he saw the bag on his shoulder,

"Finally running off then?"

He shook his head and headed to the coat stand. Without a word, he grabbed his massive rain coat and pulled it over himself. It was big enough to envelop him and his bag. His uncle shouted something but he didn't stick around to hear it. He was already pulling the hood over his head and jogging out and into the storm.

It took him a little more time than unusual to reach Riddle Manor but just the sight of the building made it all worthwhile and sent his heart into a frenzy. He hurried inside and stripped off the soaked rain coat and hung it over the banister of the staircase. His sneakers were waterlogged along with his socks. His feet felt numb and frozen. He toed off his wet sneakers and socks and made his way down to the cellar barefoot. Every step he took towards the crypt door made his heart beat faster. When he rested his hand on it, he prayed that he didn't encounter any resistance and it opened without a hitch.

Of course, life had never been simple for him so why would it start now. The door didn't budge, and he cursed verbally and shouted,

"OPEN UP TOM!"

He banged on the door and he would have kicked it if his feet hadn't felt like they'd been frozen. He set his bag down, pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. He sprayed the lock with the lubricant he'd gotten before pulling out his lock pick set and attempting to get the lock open while he spoke loudly,

"I know I haven't been around for a while, but I swear I wasn't avoiding you on purpose. I was just busy trying to find way to break your bloody curse…"

He worked on the lock for the next thirty minutes and talked to Tom but to no effect. He closed his lock pick set and slumped against the door,

"This is no way to treat your prince charming."

He ran his hands over his face as he thought about what he should do now. He needed to get this door opened and know what had happened to Tom. He pulled out the books he'd gotten from Trelawney and began going through him. There had to be a spell, something he could use to unlock this door.

He tried performing a basic spell but to no avail. He followed every step down to a T but nothing happened. Maybe the twins had been right…maybe he really didn't have the aptitude for it. But he wasn't one to give up. He kept at it for hours but by the end of the night, he didn't have anything, and it frustrated him to no end. His own incompetence just bothered him. He wasn't used to not being able to do something and he burned to correct that. He pushed his books back into his bag and banged his head against the door. He wouldn't leave without opening it...he couldn't leave.

He wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered involuntarily due to the cold. He hadn't felt it before because he'd been too distracted but now…it was really settling into his bones. He was freezing cold and that wasn't good. He got up and stared down at his bare feet…thinking hard about what to do. There had to be a way. There just had to be a way. He leaned back against the door and spoke,

"Help me out, Tom."

He moved away from the door and something came in contact with his toe, followed by a loud clink as he accidentally kicked it away. He ran the beam of his phone's flash light over the stone flooring and stopped when something reflected the light.


	38. Chapter 38

He crouched down and picked it up, only to realize that it was one of his silver rings. He checked his pockets and confirmed whether it really was his. It was. He reckoned it had slipped out when he'd been taking out his lock pick set. For a moment, he traced the patterns over its surface with his finger and then it struck him. He turned off the flash light and did a quick search on the effects of silver on vampires and it turned out that silver could hurt vampires as much as it could hurt werewolves.

He pulled off the pendant and the armband and deposited them in his bag along with his rings. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door again and it opened without resistance. He couldn't stop the burst of laughter that escaped from his lips. If he'd known that silver was the reason he couldn't get in, he would have taken it off hours ago.

But, he wasn't in the clear yet. He looked at the coffin apprehensively before making his way towards it. A rush of air left his lungs as a wave of relief washed over him. Tom was as immaculate as ever. He reached forward and traced a finger over the sharply defined cheekbone…feeling the silky smoothness of his skin. For a moment, he saw that abused boy with despair filled eyes. For a moment, he thought he should voice that he knew about that part of his past but bit his tongue. No, he couldn't really reveal that he knew so much about him now. So instead he spoke,

"I really hope you missed me, Princess."

He leaned lower and moved his finger over Tom's red lips, outlining them…wondering what they would taste like,

"I definitely missed you. You're the most exquisite thing I've ever seen."

He thought about what he'd just said and then clicked his tongue,

"No…Not a thing…You're the most exquisite creature I've ever seen."

He twisted a lock of his silky hair around his finger and spoke gently,

"I really didn't mean to stay away from you. I've been working so hard to find a way to break this curse but I haven't had any luck yet. But I'm sure I'll find it soon…very soon…"

For a moment, he just stayed silent and stared at him but when the silence began to get on his nerves, he spoke,

"That was pretty smart though…not allowing anyone with anything harmful to you to get in here…I wonder what else can hurt you…Not that I want to hurt you…I'm just curious."

He fell silent and arranged Tom's hair again before pulling back. He shivered uncontrollably and sneezed loudly. His feet had gone completely numb and he sneezed again before sniffling. Oh, damn it! He'd caught a cold. He checked the time on the phone. It was seven in the morning. He wondered if it was still raining outside. He looked at Tom again and spoke,

"I think I'm coming down with a cold…which means that I should get back now. I'll see you soon. Don't miss me too much, Princess."

He walked out of the crypt, picked up his bag and began making his way back upstairs. His socks and sneakers hadn't dried a bit. He pulled them on and then pulled his bag over his shoulders before wearing the rain coat. He used the back door instead of the front and realized that the rain was still pouring down hard. Pulling the hood over his head, he began walking back to Privet drive. He must have sneezed about a hundred times on his way.

The front door was locked and he groaned in exasperation and exhaustion. With trembling fingers, he pulled out the lock pick set. In less than five minutes, he was back in his room and getting rid of the rain coat and his shoes. He pulled out his notebook from his jacket pocket and deposited it under the loose floorboard along with his lock pick set and the phone that he'd gotten from Ginny. He'd switched it off because he figured he wouldn't be needing it for a while. Once that was done. He shrugged out of his jacket before crashing on the bed and pulling the blanket over him.

It did nothing to stop the cold and he shivered again and cursed. His body was aching and his throat was starting to feel scratchy. He tried going to sleep and he'd just succeeded when the clanking and crashing of the pots coming from the kitchen downstairs woke him up with a start. Groaning, he pulled the pillow over his head to block out the noise but it didn't work since the noise was soon accompanied by that unbearable odour of something burning.

He knew he was never going to get any rest in this bloody house but he had to try. The sound of his uncle shouting about something reached his ears followed by the sound of his thumping footsteps as he mounted the stairs. Soon enough the door of his room flew open with a bang and his uncle shouted,

"Where the hell were you last night?"

He pulled the blanket closer to himself and spoke in a low hoarse voice,

"None of your concern."

He was grabbed by his ankles and dragged out of bed before being roughly deposited on the floor. He leaned back against the bed and stared up at his red-faced uncle. He could see that he was dying to hit him. It was like a light bulb lit over his head. He grinned and spoke,

"Go on, Uncle Vernon. Don't hold back."

His uncle took a step away from him and he thought about what to do to goad his uncle into hitting him. He was fully prepared for the pain that he would have to go through but he was ready for it. In the end, he just laughed weakly and that worked like a charm to snap his uncle's self-control because in the next second, he was pretty sure that one or two of his ribs had snapped under the force the blow his uncle dealt him. He bent over and curled on the floor clutching his middle. The sound of his uncle's retreating footsteps hurrying away made him want to laugh harder. The man was certainly scared because Greyback's threat had been crystal clear. This was the best thing that could have happened to him at this point. It was just what he needed to cement a soft spot in Greyback's for himself. Now, all he had to do was wait for Andrew to show up and give Greyback the news. Another thing that he would get out of this entire ploy was an assessment of how much Greyback adhered to his word.

The blanket and the pillow had been dragged to the floor with him so he pulled the pillow back under his head and wrapped the blanket around himself. The floor felt cold under his body and he repressed another shiver. The cold was seeping into his bones and he was pretty sure that a fever was on the cards for him. It took him a while to get over the pain but eventually he did and he felt himself slip into oblivion.


	39. Chapter 39

If someone asked him what his greatest fear was, he'd definitely never tell them because revealing your fears to someone was the equivalent of handing them a gun and requesting them to shoot you in the head. But…anyways…he feared illness because when you were ill, you lost control of most of your faculties and that was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Right now, his head felt like it was filled with cotton because of the painkillers he'd been given, and he struggled to breathe because his nose was blocked because of the cold he'd caught. Keeping his eyes closed and pretending to be asleep was the only way he could evade Andrew's scrutiny. He'd tried his best to avoid the hospital and Andrew would have listened to him if Greyback hadn't been shouting orders at him through the bloody phone.

And now here he was, trapped in a hospital bed with scattered thoughts that he didn't have the ability to gather or compartmentalize. Andrew had informed him that Greyback had been in Glasgow since last night. He'd been in the hospital for the past four hours. Greyback was supposed to be here by now.

His plan hadn't involved the hospital. He had no idea where his uncle was since the man hadn't stuck around after hitting him. His Aunt had been the only person at home when Andrew had showed up. He had no idea when Greyback was supposed to be here but the sooner he came, the sooner he could get out of here. The doctor had examined him, taken his X-Ray and proclaimed that two of his ribs were fractured. He'd refused the painkillers, but Andrew had insisted, and the doctors had happily complied. He couldn't understand what morbid pleasure the doctors got from sticking needles into people.

Greyback's voice reached his ears and he sighed silently in relief. Greyback however sounded furious as he inquired from Andrew,

"How did this happen? Did you locate his uncle?"

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep as he felt Greyback draw closer to him and felt his warm breath on his cheek,

"Call the doctor."

He heard Andrew shuffle out of the room and then felt Greyback's finger brush his cheek,

"You're absolutely stunning."

He resisted the urge to grit his teeth and push away Greyback's hand. Of course, Greyback had been dying to touch him so he was taking full advantage of his moment of weakness. He imagined he was pretty happy with his condition right now. He heard two pairs of footsteps enter the room and felt Greyback's touch retreat. His voice was a low, rumbling purr when he spoke,

"Tell me what's wrong with him?"

The doctor sounded a bit timid as he gave him every detail of everything that was physically wrong with him. Greyback listened to it all silently and when the doctor was done talking, he spoke,

"I want you to give me the best care you can. I will not tolerate any negligence in his treatment."

He groaned inwardly as he heard the doctor walk out of the room and Greyback address Andrew,

"I want you find his uncle…Find that pig and take him to the warehouse…He needs to learn what happens to those who tarnish my property."

He inwardly rolled his eyes at that. Yeah, being called Greyback's property was really comforting for his health. But, the great thing was that Greyback was going to make his uncle pay. He was really looking forward to that…In fact, he could barely wait...

The sound of the door opening and another pair of footsteps entering caught his attention. The voices that followed made him want to bang his head against a wall,

"Oh, we thought Harry was alone."

Greyback's voice was pitched low and was packed with possessiveness when he asked,

"And who are you?"

He had to commend the twins' acting when they spoke innocently,

"We're his friends. Who are you?"

Greyback laughed darkly,

"My identity is irrelevant but I'm dying to know more about you two since Harry didn't mention any friends."

This was just perfect. How were things going from bad to worse so fast?

"We'll come by later."

He heard the door slam shut and figured that Andrew had closed it because in the next moment Greyback spoke in a low growl,

"Oh, do stay. Harry shall wake up sooner or later and I am sure he'll appreciate seeing you. Why don't we have a chat till then."

The twins' sounded genuinely terrified when they spoke,

"No, we'll come back when he's awake. There's somewhere we have to be."

Greyback's voice was pure dominance when he barked,

"SIT DOWN!"

He'd never seen this side of Greyback before but he'd figured that it existed. Seeing it now gave him a new insight into Greyback's character. The twins must have sat down because Greyback laughed again before ordering,

"Names…Address…Designations…I want to know it all…"

He listened to the twins tell Greyback their names and their address. He was pretty sure that Greyback would dig up everything he could on them and then ask him about it. His only main concern was that he would find out that they were members of Dumbledore's accursed order. Well he could always feign ignorance because truth be told, he still didn't know a lot about the order. When the twins were done speaking, Greyback spoke,

"Why do you think Harry failed to mention you to me?"

The twins spoke and he grinned inwardly,

"He hasn't known us long. We met him a couple of weeks ago when he started dating our sister."

That statement put him in the perfect position to feign ignorance if the twins' connection with the order ever came up.

After an hour of investigation, Greyback finally allowed the twins to leave and then spoke,

"Get some eyes on those two and find out everything you can about them."

He repressed a shudder when Greyback's touch returned to his cheek,

"I also want you to find out if their story is true regarding Harry."


	40. Chapter 40

He absolutely hated this. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness under the influence of the painkillers for heaven knows how long. He was only starting to feel a little stable now. He cracked open a lid and found Andrew seated in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs by his bed. There was no sign of Greyback and he considered that a good thing.

He tried sitting up straight but hissed when pain sparked to life in his fractured ribs. That, however, got Andrew's attention and the man was there instantly,

"You're supposed to be resting."

Right. As if he would do what Andrew wanted him to. No, rest was the last thing on his mind. He pushed himself into a sitting position and ignored his screaming ribs. He grabbed his file from the side table and went through his reports. He'd suffered from enough broken ribs over the years so he'd done a substantial amount of research on them. He held up his X-Rays to the light and examined them. His fractures weren't even severe. All he would need to do were some breathing exercises every day to avoid lung infections while he waited for them to fix by themselves. Six weeks…It was going to take them six weeks to heal. Well, he had three weeks till he acquired his inheritance. He had no idea where he was going after that.

He kicked away the covers and rose to his feet as he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Andrew held out the phone for him,

"Mr. Greyback wishes to talk to you."

He took the phone and held it to his ear as he pouted,

"I'm really disappointed in you."

The sound of Greyback's laughter filtered through the microphone,

"I can hear that you're fine again."

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and spoke,

"You didn't want me to be?"

Greyback spoke,

"Why wouldn't I want you to be fine? You're mine and I take good care of my possessions. No, I am very glad to know that you're okay now."

He inwardly rolled his eyes and Greyback asked,

"Why are you disappointed in me?"

He poured himself a glass of water from the side table and spoke,

"I expected to see you by my side when I woke up. Imagine my surprise when you were nowhere in sight."

He took a sip and Greyback was about to speak when he cut across him,

"You know what this proves?"

Greyback inquired,

"What does it prove?"

He took another sip from his glass and then spoke,

"It proves that you lied. What did you say? Special and irreplaceable…Well if I were that special, you would have at least visited me here."

Greyback chuckled softly,

"I did come to visit you. You were asleep."

He swirled around the remaining water in the glass and speculated,

"You could be lying again."

Greyback spoke,

"Well, shall I come visit you again?"

He shook his head,

"Nope, I'm sick of this hospital. I'm going back to Privet Drive."

Greyback growled loudly,

"No, you're not!"

He heard Greyback inhale softly and then speak,

"Andrew will bring you to me."

He ran his finger over the rim of the glass and spoke,

"Fine."

He handed the phone back to Andrew and watched as Greyback probably gave him instructions. Downing the water in one, he headed into the bathroom adjoining his room and splashed water over his face. Staring at his reflection, he finger combed his chaotically messy hair and ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them. When that was done, he lifted his shirt up and examined the reddish bruise that marked the location of his fractured ribs. It was a bit swollen. He'd have to put ice on it. He straightened out his shirt and walked out of the bathroom.

Andrew spoke,

"They've discharged you."

He slipped his feet into his sneakers and winced when he bent down to lace them up. Andrew knelt down and did his laces for him before getting up and holding open the door for him. He got up to his feet and walked out.

An hour later, he was walking through the warehouse door and bit back the burst of maniacal laughter that threatened to escape from his lips at the sight of his uncle tied to one of the pillars. A bright smile lit up Greyback's face at the sight of him. He settled down in one of the chairs and raised an eyebrow,

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

Greyback inclined his head and gave him a tight-lipped smile,

"I'm merely admiring how well you look."

He leaned back in his seat and stared at where his uncle was tied up again. Greyback followed his gaze and spoke,

"Aren't you happy he's here?"

He moved his gaze back to Greyback and shook his head,

"It's not that."

Greyback leaned forward and asked,

"Then what is it?"

He entwined his fingers and remarked,

"I don't want him to die yet."

Greyback smirked,

"I am certain that you're not saying that out of compassion."

He nodded,

"You're right. I'm not."

Greyback rose to his feet and smoothed his hand over the front of his suit jacket,

"Very well, he will not be killed…yet..."

He was about get up when Greyback stopped him,

"Just stay seated."

He made his way to the pillar and signalled one of the guards to pull out the gag,

"Was my warning not clear enough for you?"

His uncle shook his head fearfully and spoke,

"It was clear…"

One of the guards handed Greyback a pair of knuckle dusters that he slid on with a menacing grin. Harry felt an innate peace he'd never encountered before at the sight of all that fear on his uncle's face. Greyback had just raised his fist to hit him when his uncle blurted out,

"He was out all night…I asked him where he was, but he didn't answer me and that's why I hit him…Ask him where he was…"

He groaned inwardly but kept his features composed. He draped an arm over the back of the chair and kept his expressions as calm as possible. Greyback turned to him and inquired coldly,

"Where were you last night, Harry?"

He knew he needed to smart about his reply. If Greyback even doubted him of infidelity, then he would lose everything he'd worked for up to this point. Of course, his uncle had to make his life harder. The man thought that he could take him down with him. Well, he had no intentions of going where his uncle was headed. When was he going to be free of that bastard? Telling Greyback that he had been at Riddle Manor was out of the question. No, he had to come up with something else and he had to come up with it fast.


	41. Chapter 41

"Sybil."

Greyback raised an eyebrow,

"And who might that be?"

He rested his head against the back of the chair and spoke,

"I was with her last night."

Harry saw the rage that darkened Greyback's features and heard it in his growl,

"Is she another girlfriend?"

He wanted to laugh and tell him no but it was better to fluster him. He wanted to see Greyback mortified and wanted to hear him apologize to him. Of course, there was the matter of Trelawney cooperating and going with his lie but that wasn't really a problem. He had a feeling she would considering how nice he'd been to her. Right now, he wanted Greyback to be distracted,

"Another?"

Greyback took a step closer to him and he tipped his head back to meet his gaze,

"Your friends came to visit you as well when you were asleep."

He traced his finger over his lips as he asked,

"I'm assuming you're talking about Fred and George."

Greyback nodded distractedly as his gaze followed his finger. He could almost see his mouth watering with the urge to kiss him and taste his lips. Too bad, he wouldn't be tasting any of him until he deemed it fit. He removed his finger from his lips and spoke,

"They're not exactly my friends. I dated their sister for a while and that's how I came to meet them."

Greyback scowled,

"How many girls have you dated exactly?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"Are you really worried about the number of girls I've dated? Shouldn't you be more worried about the guys?"

Greyback took another step closer to him and brushed his cheek with the knuckle duster,

"Careful, Harry. You're treading on very thin ice here."

Oh, he knew that so well. One misstep and he'd be at the receiving end of Greyback's ire,

"Why don't you come and meet Trelawney with me? You'll see…"

Greyback removed his hand from his cheek and Harry saw that he was barely restraining his rage,

"Why would I be interested in meeting your girlfriend? Why would I even waste my time with that? How about you call her?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that as he raised himself back to his feet. He winced and wrapped an arm around his middle,

"Come one. You really do need to meet her. She's absolutely lovely."

He began walking towards the exit of the warehouse and for a moment, he expected Greyback to pounce on him from behind but none of that happened instead he saw Andrew race past him and watched as he opened the door to the car. He got in and Greyback got in beside him,

"Harry, if this…"

He cut across him,

"You can eat me if I fail to satisfy you."

A ravenous grin crossed Greyback's features,

"Oh, I'll definitely be eating you…in more ways than one."

He rattled off the address and Andrew programmed it in the GPS before they set off. Greyback spoke,

"Your uncle believes that you are trying to deceive me."

He snorted as he stared at the black tinted glass,

"Well, you'll get your answer soon enough."

He could have called Trelawney and placated Greyback, but he wanted Greyback to trust him blindly and that's why it was necessary for him to meet Trelawney. Well, it wouldn't have come to this if he hadn't acted impulsively. But, he wasn't one of those fools who turned a blind eye to their mistakes. He accepted them, analysed them and learnt from them. His mistake had been when he'd made the last minute decision to goad his uncle into hitting him. Of course, he'd gained the desired outcomes but he hadn't thought of the side effects. So, what had he learnt? Lesson number one was that he was never going to make last minute decisions. Lesson number two was that playing it safe was the safest bet for him when it concerned Greyback. There was no need for over complicated schemes to win his trust and rule his heart. All he needed was his charm and charisma.

The car came to a halt in front of the small shop front. Andrew opened the door for him and he stepped out and stared at the dingy shop front. Greyback joined him and he was extremely satisfied to see how perturbed he looked. He pushed open the door and stepped in. The overbearing scent of incense greeted them but he ignored it and walked towards the small chamber which contained the chairs and the table that Trelawney used for fortune telling. Greyback was taking in his surroundings looking slightly nonplussed.

Trelawney appeared right on cue looking like every bit of the deranged woman he wanted Greyback to believe she was. He greeted her cheerily,

"Madam Trelawney."

But Trelawney was staring at Greyback fearfully. Her magnified eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and horror. Finally, she shouted,

"Fiend! Leave my shop this instant and take your dark aura with you."

Harry came to stand between her and Greyback and spoke soothingly,

"He's not here to hurt you. He just came here to confirm whether I was really here last night or not."

Trelawney's gaze was laser focused on him for a minute before she looked over his shoulder at Greyback again before whispering conspiratorially,

"Of course, you were. Why does he care though?"

He bit back a grin because he knew Greyback had heard that,

"He's just a friend."

Trelawney gripped his arm and leaned closer to treat him to the overwhelmingly strong scent of cooking sherry,

"Be careful around him."

He nodded and passed her a smile,

"I will, Madam Trelawney."

She brightened up after that and chirped,

"You missed your cleansing. Can we reschedule?"

He nodded silently and spoke,

"I'll be available on Sunday, Madam."

She beamed and spoke,

"I'll have everything prepared for you then."

She cast another dark gaze Greyback's way before tottering away. He turned to face Greyback and saw sweet mortification on his face. He didn't say anything and began making his way out of the shop. Andrew opened the door for him and he got in. Greyback sat down beside him and they were off. Harry enjoyed the silence that was wedged between them like a solid wall. Half way through the drive, Greyback spoke and his voice dripped with mortification,

"I believe I owe you an apology."

He leaned back in his seat and stared at the black tinted glass as he savoured the sweet taste of victory on his tongue. Sometimes silence was the best way to assert your dominance and he was doing exactly that. This was the perfect moment for him to dictate his terms. When the silence had gone on for a while, Greyback spoke,

"Harry, you should know that I never apologize to anyone."

He turned to face Greyback at that,

"Don't start those lies with me again. You've proved that I'm neither special nor irreplaceable."

Greyback seemed genuinely contrite when he spoke,

"Harry, what was I supposed to believe when your uncle informed me that you were out all night? Only one meaning comes to mind when you imagine a situation like that."

He huffed indignantly,

"Our arrangement won't work if you keep believing what others say and doubt me every step of the way."

Greyback sighed softly,

"I'm truly sorry, Harry. It shall not happen again."

He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed,

"Fine."

He'd successfully corrected his mistake. Now, he was waiting for the other question and right on cue, it came,

"What were you doing with her last night?"

He snorted as he ran his finger over the smooth glass,

"She was trying to teach me magic. It's a relatively new interest of mine but it seems I lack the certain something that is needed for it."

Greyback's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline,

"Magic?"

He nodded ruefully and heaved a sigh,

"Alas, that's one skill I shall never be able to master."

Greyback patted him on the shoulder gently and gave him an understanding smile,

"There are other brands you can try."

He straightened up at that,

"Other brands?"


	42. Chapter 42

Greyback gave a pleased smile before facing away from him,

"There are several types of magic. Well there are the Dark Arts, which you might know as the Black Arts, Black Magic, Dark Magic etc etc… You can try your hand on it. Maybe, you might be more successful in it."

He stared at Greyback's profile for a moment before speaking,

"Can you perform the Dark Arts?"

Greyback shook his head and waved his hand dismissively,

"I've never needed them."

He narrowed his gaze at him suspiciously until Greyback turned back around to face him. He declared,

"If it involves selling my soul off to the devil then count me out of it. I'm not stupid enough to make that bargain."

Greyback barked out a laugh before speaking,

"I'll provide you with the books. You can go through them on your own."

He nodded quietly before turning away from Greyback as his mind whirled. Maybe he'd have better luck with the dark arts. Well, all that he needed was a way to break Tom's curse. His ribs ached and lifted his shirt to realize that the swelling had increased. Dropping his shirt back, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the seat. Greyback spoke in a voice laced with a guilt,

"Andrew will get you some ice when we get back."

He didn't reply to that. It was Greyback's fault that he'd been forced to move around and he wanted him to stew in that guilt for a while. When they reached the warehouse again. Andrew opened his door and he stepped out. He noticed the smug look on his uncle's face and ignored it. The man was going to be wholly disappointed when he would realize that his plans had been thwarted and he was extremely excited to see his face when that happened. Greyback stepped into the warehouse and spoke,

"Take a seat, Harry."

It sounded like an order, so he lifted his chin in a show of defiance. Greyback caught on quickly and corrected his mistake,

"Please, take a seat, Harry."

He settled down in Greyback's chair and Andrew handed him an ice pack wrapped up in a towel. He lifted his shirt up again and held the ice pack to the swollen area. The terrified look on his uncle's face brought him more relief than the ice ever could. Greyback pulled on his knuckle dusters back on and spoke,

"Well then, where were we?"

He propped his feet up on the desk as he continued to gently massage his injury with the ice pack. All he was missing now was popcorn. His uncle sputtered,

"Please…Please…Mr. Greyback…I only did it for you…"

An animalistic grin curved Greyback's features as he inquired,

"You damaged my property for me? How kind of you?"

Greyback had just raised his fist to draw a punch when he drawled,

"Not the face, Darling."

Greyback smirked wolfishly before hitting his uncle square in the stomach. The punches that followed and his uncle's screams and groans of pain were the best sight and sounds he'd ever experienced. When it had gone on for a while, he handed the ice pack back to Andrew and spoke,

"I think that's enough."

Greyback pulled off the knuckle dusters and handed them to one of the guards before drawing closer to him,

"Did that feel good?"

He smacked his lips and winked,

"Revenge is incredibly sweet."

Harry turned his gaze away from Greyback and looked at his uncle, who was hanging limply in the ropes. Greyback inquired softly,

"Do you want him carted off to the hospital?"

He nodded silently and spoke,

"I need him in perfect health by my birthday."

Greyback leaned back against the desk and by the look on his face, Harry could tell that he was thinking hard,

"Why is your birthday so important to you? You don't seem like the type of person who's emotionally invested in occasions."

He snickered softly and spoke in a tone filled with mock fondness,

"You've come to known me so well. I'm touched."

Greyback extended his hand to touch him when he shook his head,

"Not yet."

His uncle's miserable sobs punctuated the silence between them until Greyback growled,

"Get him to a bloody hospital."

He rose to his feet gracefully and spoke,

"Drop me off at Privet Drive while you're at it."

Greyback shook his head and clicked his tongue,

"You're not going back there."

He glared at him venomously,

"Why the hell not?"

Greyback rested his hands on the desk behind him and spoke in a matter of fact voice,

"Because you're not safe there."

He raised an eyebrow,

"And who's going to hurt me there when my uncle's in the hospital?"

Greyback shook his head,

"You're coming with me."

He crossed his arms over his chest and ground out,

"I thought I was absolutely clear when I said that you couldn't touch me before my birthday."

What the hell was all this about? It seemed like every issue had selected today to raise its ugly little head. Greyback spoke,

"Who said that I'm going back on that. I shall not attempt to touch you before your birthday, but you will be staying where I know that you're safe."

He closed his eyes and sighed. Greyback's protective alpha side had the absolutely worse timing. He didn't need this right now? How was he supposed to convince Greyback to let him live at Privet Drive till his birthday?

"I don't get it. I'm perfectly safe at Privet Drive."

Greyback pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. That wasn't a good sign but he needed to pressure him into letting him stay,

"I won't go anywhere with you."

Finally, he growled,

"Harry, you're my property and I can keep you where ever I wish."

He ran his fingers through his hair and spoke coolly,

"If I'm your property then show me proof of ownership."

Of course, Greyback didn't have a reply to that so he spoke,

"I've been listening to you stake your claim all over me for hours now and I'm pretty sick of it. Let's be very clear about the fact that I'm not your property… not until I sign a contract. So, you have no right to restrict my movements or dictate my life."

Greyback looked like he was verge of tearing him apart. He took a step closer to him, batted his eyelashes flirtatiously and cooed,

"I told you once, I'll tell you again…If you treat me right, I can be the sweetest thing you've ever seen."


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update is a little shorter than the rest and I'm extremely sorry for that but I've been a bit under the weather. Hope you enjoy it though

He was tired…so bloody tired of everything. As soon as Andrew dropped him off at Privet Drive, he headed straight up to his room. It took him only a second to fall in bed and pull the blanket over himself. He closed his eyes and, relishing the calm and silence of the house, fell asleep.

When he woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the gaps between the bars. For a few moments, he just stared at it blankly, allowing his brain wake up properly. He fisted the rough covers as he felt his ribs throbbing painfully with every breath. He pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard as he pulled the pillow from behind him and held it to his chest before taking in slow, deep breaths. His ribs felt like they were on fire but this was important. Clutching the pillow to his chest, he did the gentle coughing exercise a few times until he couldn't stand the pain anymore. He stared at the wall for a few moments, trying to distract his brain from the pain…trying his best to make it more bearable.

Closing his eyes, he meditated for a few minutes until the sound of the car engine being killed interrupted him. He opened his eyes and thought hard about who it could be. Probably his Aunt or Dudley…The sound of a car door being locked came next followed quickly by the front door opening. He knew he was being a tad bit paranoid but he needed to be on his guard. Rising to his feet, he made his way to the door as stealthily as possible and listened for sounds from downstairs. There were sounds coming from the kitchen and he tiptoed to the banister of the staircase and peered down.

He saw nothing and that irritated him. Well, he needed ice for his ribs anyways so he might as well go and check who it was. What was the worst that could happen? He was already dealing with a lascivious werewolf, a comatose vampire, a deranged witch and stalkerish twins. Nothing could top that.

Relaxing his posture, he strolled down the stairs casually and walked into the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of a very haggard looking Aunt Petunia. She cast him a venomous glare and then spoke,

"I hope you realize that your actions landed your uncle in the hospital. You're the only one to blame for what happened to your uncle."

He made his way to the refrigerator and grabbed a pack of frozen peas from the freezer before turning around to face her,

"Uncle Vernon is responsible for his own condition. He was the one that got himself acquainted with a drug lord like Greyback, he should have been prepared for the consequences."

His aunt drew closer to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt,

"We should have left you on the porch and let you freeze to death all those years ago."

He nodded solemnly,

"Yes, you should have. I would have been saved from this hell."

He held his aunt's furious gaze and then laughed softly,

"Well, if you'd let me die all those years ago, then you wouldn't have had a free servant to do all your chores twenty-four-seven, would you?"

If looks could kill, his aunt would have definitely managed to murder him a thousand times over by now,

"You're just like your bloody parents…Wicked and cunning…Rotten to the very core…"

He chuckled softly before placing the pack on the table,

"I'll take that as a compliment."

A malicious grin curved his aunt's lips and she spoke,

"Boy, if you only knew half the things your parents did, you would probably kill yourself."

Oh, he was definitely curious now. His aunt had his full and undivided attention. He leaned back against the table and frowned,

"Well tell me so I can get to killing myself."

She smirked,

"You should know that they were murdered and rightly so…"

He already knew that but the 'rightly so' part intrigued him. His aunt was probably trying to mentally torment. After all what would hurt an ordinary orphan more than knowing that his parents had been wicked people and had been murdered. Of course, there was nothing ordinary about him. In fact, he was beginning to see why he was the way he was. He drew up his most pained expression and spoke,

"They were murdered?"

His aunt laughed wickedly before running her bony fingers through her hair,

"Yes, they were, and they deserved it for all the evilness they participated in."

Evilness…right…He was more certain than ever that Dumbledore's order was pure evil,

"What evilness?"

She turned her back to him and spoke,

"Well, that's a question you'll never get an answer to."

Oh…He had an inkling to what his parents might have been up to with Dumbledore but he needed to be sure. Maybe it was time, he tracked down Albus Dumbledore and talked to him.


	44. Chapter 44

His phone kept ringing and ringing as he flipped through the pages of the book Greyback had sent him. Growling in annoyance, he looked at the screen and muted the call. What the hell was Greyback so worried about? It wasn't like he was going to run away and even if he did, he wouldn't manage to get far.

No, he needed his inheritance to formulate an exit strategy. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, realigned his thoughts and opened them to continue reading. So far, he was intrigued by everything he'd read on dark magic and he was basically itching to practice it. There had been one particular paragraph at the very beginning of the book that had intrigued him deeply.

_White magick and black magick are concepts that have existed for time immemorial. White magick, according to Alice Bailey, author of_ _Treatise on White Magic of 1934_ _, is a practice of the Craft that can ONLY be performed by a healthy witch or wizard of a pure heart. It is a practice that serves others and is selfless rather than selfish. Black magick, on the other hand, serves the magician, and the definition of it can be narrow or broad. In broad terms, one can define black magick as that which the magician believes is immoral, unethical or wrongful in some or other way. In no way is black magick necessarily malevolent, it simply depends on the intention with which the magick is performed._

His phone started ringing again and he resisted the urge to throw it against the wall and silence it for good. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and picked It up before saying in his most sleepy voice,

"Yes…"

Greyback sounded slightly apologetic when he spoke and he smirked,

"I thought you'd be awake but it seems like you were sleeping."

He faked a yawn and spoke,

"I'm awake now. What do you want?"

He closed the book as silently as possible and pushed it to the side before stretching his legs,

"I was wondering about how you're feeling now?"

He ran his hand over his chest and faked a yawn again before replying sarcastically,

"Great."

He knew Greyback just wanted to confirm their dinner date for tonight but he was in no mood for that so playing sick was the only way to get out of it. Greyback finally spoke,

"Will you be able to join me for dinner tonight?"

He pressed a little on the sore spot to illicit a soft cry from his lips. Greyback sounded genuinely concerned when he spoke,

"Are you alright, Harry?"

His eyes were watering with the pain he'd just caused himself but it was nothing compared to spending an evening in Greyback's company and being on his guard. He was too tired for it. He could have faked the cry but it wouldn't have sounded authentic,

"I'm fine."

Greyback tsked,

"I'm sending Andrew over. He'll take care of you."

He bit back a curse. Of course, his plan was to make Greyback absolutely enamoured with him and this was an indicator of that but he didn't want his concern or his worry. He just needed to be left alone.

"I'm fine. I don't need Andrew. I just need to rest."

Greyback sighed,

"Harry, I have been fulfilling all your demands so far. You wanted to stay at Privet Drive, I obliged despite my reservations. You wanted me to wait till your birthday to touch you and I am waiting…"

He leaned back against the pillow and cut him off in his most saccharine voice,

"I'm well aware of the restraint you're showing, Darling. But you need to understand. If Andrew's here then I won't be able to rest."

Greyback exhaled,

"Fine. Have it your way, Harry. I'm leaving for New York tomorrow and I shall see you on your birthday. And then I shall have no more of your excuses. You will be mine willingly or otherwise…"

He fist pumped the air silently and spoke,

"I'll be all yours when you return. Have a safe trip."

He ended the call and finally allowed the laughter to bubble out his lips. Yes…Yes…Yes…Three weeks was enough time for him to find a way to break Tom's curse and get his inheritance. He'd thought about contacting Dumbledore but then decided against it for now because contacting Dumbledore meant adding another cunning man into his already muddled up world. He had enough cunning men to deal with now and over complicating things wouldn't bode well for him.

He stepped down from the bed and knelt on the floor before pulling away the loose floor board and taking out his notebook and other phone. It was a good thing he'd out them away when he'd had because he was pretty sure, Greyback had had Andrew go through his bag and wardrobe. His things had been out of place when he'd been searching for a shirt to wear earlier today. He connected the turned off phone to the charger and then powered it on. Instantly he received a ton of notifications for messages and missed calls from the twins. There was another message from Trelawney, warning him from Greyback's aura and telling him to be careful.

Speaking of Trelawney, he had his cleansing session scheduled for tomorrow night. He wondered what that would be like. Would it really cleanse him of the mark Tom had placed on him? When had Tom placed the mark on him anyway? Had he done it when he'd been a baby or recently when he'd visited him in the crypt for the first time? What did being marked entail anyway? Those were all the questions he needed answers to and he was pretty sure Trelawney could answer them.

Sighing, he settled back on the bed and shuffled through his notebook, refreshing the facts in his mind. He needed to break the curse before he left with Greyback. Two years…He had to spend two long years with Greyback which meant 730 days of scheming, planning and being constantly vigilant. He shuddered at the thought. No, he was in desperate need for an escape plan.


	45. Chapter 45

He was standing outside Trelawney's shop an hour before sundown and rethinking his decision to go through with this. Taking a deep breath, he quickly went through the advantages and disadvantages of going through with this. He had everything to gain by this and nothing to lose. On top of all that, he was going to get all his questions answered before the cleansing so if they weren't to his satisfaction, he could simply walk out. The advantages outweighed the cons and he knocked on the door. Tapping his foot on the pavement, he stared at the shop display as he waited for Trelawney to open the door.

Something in the glass caught his attention and he tried to focus on it while appearing as nonchalant as possible. A guy dressed in a black overcoat was standing the in the alley directly opposite the shop and watching him. He currently had his back to the guy and the glass was the only reason he was able to see him. He tried making out his features but the guy had a wool cap covering his head and the collar of his coat turned up. He was tempted to turn around and face him but logic prevailed and he stood still and knocked on the door once again. He watched as the guy retreated further into the alley and disappeared from view.

The door opened but Harry was still staring at the mirror where the guy's reflection had just been,

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

He looked away from the mirror and smiled at Trelawney,

"No."

Trelawney stood aside and ushered him in,

"Well come inside."

He stepped into the shop and battled the urge to look over his shoulder. When Trelawney had closed the door, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Who was that guy? Had he followed him here from Privet Drive? His first bet was that Greyback was having him followed which meant that he needed to be extra careful about his movements. Trelawney rested a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see that her already magnified eyes were wider now with concern,

"What happened, Harry?"

He shook his head and pushed himself away from the wall,

"Nothing, Madam Trelawney. There is no need for you to be concerned."

He wasn't concerned either…just very very curious. He wanted to know whether that guy was really working for Greyback or not. And if it was the latter then who was he working for? Who would want to keep an eye on him? Trelawney signalled him to take a seat in one of the armchairs and he sat down. She poured some highly aromatic green tea into a cup from a small kettle and offered it to him. He stared it dubiously for a moment before accepting it and breathing in more of the scent. Vanilla and cinnamon…He took a sip and tested the flavour on his tongue, searching for the slightest hint of something bitter…or out of place…When he detected nothing, he relaxed in his seat and took another sip, this time savouring the wonderful aroma and taste.

Trelawney extended her hand and Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly,

"Your wrist."

He set the cup down and offered it to her. Her ringed fingers closed around it and her eyelids fluttered shut. She was chanting something over and over again under her breath and Harry tried to catch the words. And then she went silent abruptly and Harry watched the way her form stiffened completely. Her grip on his wrist turned bone shattering and he felt his hand going steadily numb. He was about to speak when Trelawney's eyes flew open. Her pupils were gone and even though the sight disturbed him, he was utterly intrigued by it. He tried to pry his wrist away from her hand but her grip was relentless. Harry struggled harder and managed to pry her bony fingers away from his wrist. As soon as he did, Trelawney slumped back in her seat and released a loud, ear piercing scream. He stared at her twitching form indifferently and crossed his legs, propping his ankle over his knee. He was pretty sure that she wasn't going to die. He examined his wrist where finger sized bruises were blossoming over the spots where Trelawney had been gripping it as he thought about what he was going to do if Trelawney did die. Well, there was no point in worrying about that right now. She was still alive. He'd think about a plan if she died.

Picking up his cup, he took another sip and watched as Trelawney slowly recovered from whatever fit she'd been having. She straightened up and Harry was slightly glad to see that her pupils were back. She tilted her head and regarded him with a curious look in her eyes,

"Were you saying something?"

He shook his head and Trelawney frowned before speaking,

"I believe you had questions."

He nodded and spoke,

"Yes, I actually do. My first question is when the mark was placed on me?"

Trelawney poured herself a cup of green tea and spoke,

"It was done when the curse was placed on The Dark Lord."

He took another sip from his cup and spoke,

"You mean when I was a baby?"

She nodded silently,

"Well, what does being marked entail?"

A look of utter fear crossed Trelawney's features and she spoke,

"It means that if The Dark Lord returns, he shall be able to locate you through the marks. You shall not be able to run from him."

He downed the rest of his tea in one and then placed the empty cup on the table,

"Can the ritual really cleanse me of the mark?"

She pursed her lips and then spoke,

"I have told you that it may or may not cleanse you."

He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward,

"Let's suppose it doesn't. What other options can I explore to get rid of the mark?"

She blinked at him owlishly for a moment before speaking,

"You must learn to have faith, My boy."

He laughed softly and shook his head,

"Faith is for the weak. I like being prepared for any contingency."

She smiled knowingly,

"I am certain that it will work if you believe that it will work."

He wasn't satisfied with that answer but it seemed that he would have to settle on it for now. Getting rid of the mark was absolutely mandatory before he worked on lifting Tom's curse. Taking a deep breath, he grinned and asked,

"When can we start?"


	46. Chapter 46

Harry stood infront of the fairly ancient looking bath tub and watched Trelawney as she prepared the bath. When it was filled about three quarters, she turned off the faucet and spun around to face him,

"You will need to visualize that the water is cleansing you."

He nodded curtly as Trelawney walked past him towards the cabinet and pulled out a jar filled with some brownish liquid. She handed it to him and spoke,

"This infusion contains lavender buds, violet buds, pine needles, rose petals, rosemary, lime peel and lemon peel. Lavender is for peace and healing. The violet buds are for prosperity. Pine needles will heal and clean your aura and rosemary will banish all your bad memories. Lime peel will help you gain emotional and psychic control over a difficult situation and the lemon peel will purify your physical self."

He sloshed the liquid in the jar and then asked,

"What about the rose petals?"

Trelawney smiled and whispered secretly,

"Those are for unconditional love."

He scowled at that and was about to ask why he'd need something like that when Trelawney turned her back on him,

"This is how you will do it. You will step into the bath and ensure that you're wet from head to toe. You will keep your eyes firmly closed and chant these words as you will pour the contents over your head. I expect you to soak in the water for at least thirty minutes. You will banish all worldly thoughts before stepping into the water and you shall avoid them until you step out. As I have mentioned before, your sole focus shall be the cleansing properties of the water. You will pull the plug out to drain out the water before stepping out. Avoid drying yourself off with a towel and wait for your skin to dry naturally. Have you understood all that?"

He placed the jar beside the bathtub as he recounted everything Trelawney had told him inside his head,

"Yes, I have. You haven't told me the words though."

Trelawney adjusted her shawl over her shoulders and spoke,

" _Sol et luna_

_Et nunc sum a pura_

_Nihil me tangere;_

_Nihil me convertere_

_Sum sanus et fortis gratia_ _"_

He memorized that as soon as he'd heard it but repeated that word for word thrice just to get the pronunciation right. He tucked his hands in the pockets of the his jeans and asked,

"Translate them for me."

Trelawney smiled as if she'd expected that,

"  _By the sun and the moon,_

_I am cleansed and now pure_

_Nothing can touch me_

_Nothing can change me_

_I am whole, strong and in a state of grace"_

He ran those words inside his head and the nodded in satisfaction. Trelawney turned her back to him and spoke,

"Enjoy your bath."

Harry watched her as she walked away before stripping off his clothes. Taking a deep breath, he emptied his mind of everything and stepped into the water. The temperature was just right and felt amazing against his battered ribs as he settled into it. He made sure to wet every strand of his hair and every inch of his skin before picking up the jar, closing his eyes and starting to chant the words. Carefully, he poured the contents of the jar over his head and breathed in the wonderfully aromatic essence of the herbs of flowers. He kept visualizing that the water was healing him, cleansing him, removing that chain from his wrist.

He had no idea how long he'd been soaking but an uncomfortable prickling sensation began to bother him…It was like a thousand needles were puncturing his skin and then the pain came. It had an unpleasant warmth to it, eating at his stomach. There was nausea too, just enough to make him breath slow. He'd often prized himself in ignoring pain and just rocking on regardless, but that just wasn't possible at the moment. The pain owned him, dominated his every thought, controlled every action.

When he couldn't tolerate it anymore, he opened his eyes and gasped at the sight infront of him. The water wasn't water anymore… It was blood…Crimson, viscous blood…He ran his hands over his body, his gaze searching his skin for puncture marks but there were none. It wasn't his blood. He rubbed his eyes, willing himself to see sense but the sight remained unchanged. He wasn't hallucinating. This was real. It was so very real.

The pain returned searing through his abdomen better than a branding iron, his mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. Without meaning to his body curls into something fetal, something primeval and all the while the pain burned and radiated. He screamed but choked on the blood as his head went under. Kicking his feet, he splashed around the tub, making as much noise as he possibly could as the metallic taste of blood overwhelmed his senses along with that burning pain.

He was going to die by drowning in a bath tub full of blood. What a bloody miserable way to go…like literally... He heard rushing footsteps and then a loud shocked gasp before he was being dragged out of the tub and being wrapped up in a towel. The pain vanished as soon as he was out. He coughed and sputtered, trying to regain his breathing and when he had stabilized to a certain extent, he sat up straight and looked at the bath tub again. The blood was still there and that perturbed him. He looked at the towel and saw the way it was stained with scarlet blotches.

What the hell was going on?


	47. Chapter 47

"Get out."

He kept his gaze fixed on the bath tub and waited for Trelawney to leave. When she didn't, he shouted,

"GET OUT!"

Trelawney scurried out and Harry let the towel drop before examining every inch of himself. The blood wasn't his and besides it wasn't even logical. The blood hadn't dissolved in the water…the water had turned into blood.

He sat down on the edge of the tub and ran his hand through the crimson liquid. So much for being cleansed. Whatever magic Tom had used to mark him had possibly reacted to Trelawney's. That pain…He could almost still feel it…That pain didn't bother him as much as the fact that he'd lost all rational sense because of it. He'd nearly drowned and that irked him. He could have pulled the plug out with his toe…he could have saved himself in a million different ways but he hadn't because he'd been doing what other ordinary person did when they were dying... panicking… He'd been panicking like a bloody idiot and making matters worse for himself…

How could he have been so senseless? He'd considered himself better than that but this proved that he wasn't better. He still needed to work on himself…He still needed to sharpen his mind and his instincts. There was a lot of room for improvement.

He stared at the blood and wondered what he could do about it. He could get a sample and have it tested. The DNA would surely tell him the identity of the person this blood belonged to. Maybe Trelawney had a quicker way of detecting who this blood belonged to.

He pulled his hand out of the blood and ran it through his hair. First that man and now this…Today was an utter disaster. Getting up, he looked around the bathroom. He needed a bath, a proper bath…not a blood bath…Wrapping the towel around himself, he stepped out of the bathroom and found Trelawney waiting in the hallway,

"I need a flask or a phial or something…"

Trelawney hurried away and returned in a heartbeat with a glass flask. He went back into the bathroom and made sure to the slam the door shut behind him. He filled it with the blood, corked it up and set it on the sink before pulling the plug and draining the rest of it.

He washed away the remnants with water before putting the plug back in and filling it up again. He was still bothered by his own weakness. Grabbing a soap and washcloth from the sink he settled into the bath tub and placed them by his side. Taking a deep breath, he laid back and immersed his head in the water.

He held his breath for as long as he could…pushing his limits…even when his lungs screamed for oxygen and his body thrashed, he didn't relinquish his control and continued to count the seconds in his head. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably and that's when he knew that he would have to come up. Finally, when he'd been underwater for exactly two hundred and sixty eight seconds, he raised his head above the water and even then he forced himself to breathe in the air steadily and slowly instead of gasping and sputtering. Control was the most important thing to him especially control over himself. If he couldn't retain control of his own actions then he certainly could not control his circumstances. He was not going to tolerate a repeat of how easily he'd lost control today.

He washed himself efficiently and quickly before emerging from the water and drying himself off. After pulling on his clothes, he grabbed the flask from the sink and exited the bathroom. Trelawney was still standing there and Harry wanted to growl out in frustration,

"What do you think happened in there?"

Trelawney started at him for a moment with wide fearful eyes and then spoke,

"The dark magic that binds you to him is too strong. I am no match for it."

He huffed irately,

"I already know that. What can I do now to get rid of it?"

Harry watched the the terrified manner in which she eyed the blood filled flask and spoke,

"I'm afraid I can't help you. Only the strongest dark magic can remove the mark."

He rolled his eyes at that because he'd expected it,

"Can you find out who this blood belongs to?"

She gasped in horror like he'd just asked her to bring him the moon and he didn't have the patience for that,

"So, basically what you mean to tell me is that you can't do it."

She nodded and he slipped the flask in the pocket of his jacket,

"I'll be going then, Madam Trelawney. I wish I could say that it was great knowing you but it hasn't so I can't."

He turned his back to her and walked away. He grabbed his bag from the main shop area and stepped out of the shop, subtly scanning the road for the guy who'd been following. There wasn't any sign of him yet so he started making his way towards Privet Drive. On his way, he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible while he kept his guard up and his senses on the alert. He was half way there when he felt it, that slight tingle that ran down his spine and told him that he was being watched. Changing his route, he started walking towards the diner that was a couple of streets away.

Forcing back the grin that threatened to curve his lips, he stepped into the busy diner and looked for a vacant booth. He'd never been here before so he knew none of the waitresses or the owner…otherwise, he'd probably already be seated by now. He wasn't really here to sit though. A waitress sauntered up to him and he tipped his head back. Perfect.

"Can I help you?"

He smiled charmingly and nodded,

"Actually yes. I was just looking for a vacant booth but it seems I'm out of luck. It's just not my night."

The waitress's painted red lips parted to form an O and she asked,

"I'm sure I can accommodate you somewhere."

Harry watched her scan the area before she pointed towards the booth next to the window that was just being vacated,

"Oh look…maybe your luck isn't that bad after all."

He grinned flirtatiously as he gave her a quick once over,

"Perhaps not."

He settled down in the booth and she bent down, giving him a good view of her cleavage,

"So, what's got someone as handsome as you so down?"

He pulled up his most sombre expression and sighed,

"My girlfriend broke up with me an hour ago."

She shook her head apologetically but Harry caught that slight lustful gleam in her eyes,

"That's terrible. Maybe I can help you in some way."

He pretended to think about it for a moment before speaking,

"Maybe you can."


	48. Chapter 48

Harry pretended to stare out the window when in truth he was really watching the reflection of the entrance in the glass. He knew the exact moment when the man stepped into the diner and watched in the reflection as one of the waitresses escorted him to a booth against the far wall.

Just then, Katie, the waitress he'd chatted up, came back holding a plate laden with his burger and fries and set them down in front of him,

"Can I get you anything else?"

He grinned and licked his lips suggestively,

"I'll have you for dessert."

Katie blushed before twisting one of her locks around her fingers,

"My shift ends in half an hour."

He picked up one of the fries from his plate,

"Take your time, sweetheart. I'm in no hurry."

Katie's flush deepened before she turned away from him and walked towards the kitchens. He munched on his French fry and took another glance at the man. The guy was staring intently at the menu but then he cast a quick sidelong glance in his direction before quickly returning his attention to the menu. He held back his grin and picked up his burger. Taking a bite, he thought about what he was going to do next. If the guy really was working for Greyback then what he was about to do would surely get a reaction out of him. He could just call him but he knew that Greyback would outright deny it and on top of that, the guy following him would become more cautious and more difficult to spot. But…if this guy wasn't working for Greyback then he would have to corner him and make him squeal.

Exactly half an hour later, Katie stood in front of his booth wearing a grey wool coat and a red hat,

"Just let me get the bill and we can get going."

Katie lowered her gaze bashfully and spoke,

"It's been taken care of."

He raised an eyebrow and she murmured,

"I just wanted to do something to cheer you up."

He draped his arm around her shoulder and spoke,

"Katie, as much as I appreciate it, I didn't need that."

Katie eyed him suggestively and spoke,

"Why don't you repay me by showing me a good time?"

He smiled,

"I can definitely do that."

He led her out of the diner and she spoke,

"So…My place is yours?"

He was about to reply when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He grinned when he saw the ID and took the call,

"Hey."

Greyback literally growled and Harry smirked,

"Angry much?"

Greyback made another wolfish sound and Harry pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to Katie,

"It was nice meeting you, sweetheart, but, I'm afraid I have to go."

Katie stared incredulously at him for a moment. Harry fished out his wallet and pulled out five tenners,

"That should cover the dinner and your ride home."

She clutched money in her hand before giving him a withering look and silently stomping away. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have paid her but the delight he'd felt at hearing Greyback so angry was just too priceless and she'd helped him with that so she deserved some kind of reward,

"Right, so what's got your panties in a twist?"

He began walking towards Privet Drive as he listened to Greyback's failed attempts at calming his breathing and then he spoke,

"What the hell are you playing at, Harry?"

He chuckled softly before running his fingers through his hair,

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you. Could you repeat that?"

The front door was unlocked so he stepped inside and momentarily froze at the sight in front of him. The place had been ransacked. Harry walked into the living room and realized that Uncle Vernon's prized widescreen TV was gone along with his aunt's music system and Dudley's Xbox. He went up to his bedroom and realized that his room was a mess as well. Greyback was shouting something but he wasn't paying attention as he knelt beside his bed and checked his meagre belongings under the loose floor board. Everything was in place and he let out the breath, he hadn't known he'd been holding,

"Harry…HARRY!"

Harry murmured,

"I'll call you later."

Before ending the call. He slipped his phone into his pocket and ran his gaze around his vandalized room. His relatives had clearly been robbed but the timing didn't sit too well with him. It almost looked like someone had been searching for something and they'd just taken whatever expensive thing they could get their hands on in the process. He could be wrong but this just didn't seem like a robbery. Something about all this just pricked his sixth sense like an offensive needle. What was up today? His phone started ringing again and he ignored it as he debated whether he should call the police or not. Maybe he should inform Aunt Petunia first. She was probably at the hospital. He pulled out his phone and called her. He held the phone to his ear as he tapped his foot on the floor. The distinct sound of his aunt's ringing tone caught his attention and he rose to his feet. Ending the call, he stepped out of the room and wondered what her phone was doing at home. Maybe she'd forgotten it but then that begged the question, why hadn't it been stolen?

He walked toward his Aunt and Uncle's bedroom and pushed open the door only to halt at the sight that greeted him.


	49. Chapter 49

Harry ran his gaze around the room, taking in the blood streaked walls, the contents of the wardrobe that were scattered all over the floor along with shattered glass. The centrepiece, however, of this gory work of art was his Aunt and cousin's mutilated corpses on the bed. The room reeked of death.

Tucking his hands in his pockets, he stepped into the room carefully…glass crunched underneath the sole of his shoes as he took a look at the wardrobe. The built in safe was thrown open and completely empty. Turning away from the safe, he looked at the corpses and tried to ascertain how they'd been killed. It was so easy to see that they'd definitely put up a fight. He wondered why no one from the neighbourhood had heard them struggle or shout. They must have screamed for help and knowing just how shrill his Aunt's voice was, she should have woken up the entire neighbourhood.

Bringing up every book he'd read on forensics, he stepped closer to the bed and observed his aunt's corpse. Her unseeing eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide with terror. Blood stained her face and her pink dress and there was a deep, oblique, long incised injury on the front of her neck. Harry bent low over it and observed it closely. The left end of the injury started below the ear at upper third of the neck and deepened gradually with severance of the left carotid artery. The right sided end of the injury was at the mid third of the neck with a tail abrasion. There were multiple, parallel, superﬁcial cuts above and below the deep fatal cut which suggested that she had indeed attempted to get away.

Taking a step away from the bed, he once again ran his gaze around the room. There was something dark at play here. Something was going on here. This entire matter seemed way too suspicious. He stepped out of the room and wondered what he was supposed to do now. Should he call the police? Their number one suspect would be him. Well he had a solid alibi…well three solid alibis…Trelawney, Katie and the guy who'd been stalking him. If he didn't call the police, then they'd suspect him even more.

He felt a bit disappointed that in the end someone else had gotten the privilege to kill his aunt and cousin when he'd so desperately wanted to be that person but anyways they were gone now and that's all that mattered. Pulling out his phone, he dialled 999 and told the dispatch personnel everything that had happened in his most panicked and distressed voice. He was informed that an officer would be with him shortly and the line went dead.

He walked calmly back to his room and stood infront of the mirror. He was practically glowing with joy and that wasn't a good look. He mussed up his hair and yawned over and over again until his eyes started watering up. He messed up his clothes and made it look like he was the most distressed person in the world. Acting had always been his strong suit and he was proud of it.

When he was satisfied by the way he looked, he went downstairs and waited in the hallway. Soon enough the sound of approaching sirens resonated around the neighbourhood and Harry exhaled deeply before whispering,

"Show time."

Three hours later, he was sitting in an uncomfortable steel chair in an unbearably cold interrogation room. He was tired…so very tired of acting but he had to keep it up. Right now, he was trying to appear as intimidated and terrified as he possibly could. He had his elbows pressed into the sides and made himself seem as small as he possible could. He kept shaking uncontrollably and made sure to wet his lips nervously after every few seconds. He had his gaze fixed in his lap and thought hard about who could have done that. Nothing about this was making any sense and that just nettled him.

Another officer stepped into the room and placed a steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in front of him on the steel table,

"Drink up, kid."

He shook his head silently and mentally sighed as he prepared to reiterate the story he'd already repeated about thirty times. The officer sat down opposite him and opened up a thick notebook in front of him which made Harry yearn for his own. A plain clothed man entered the room. He carried an open laptop in one hand and a coffee mug in another,

"Okay, kid. Let's get this over this. This is detective Scott and he'll be recording your statement on the laptop. Why don't you recount everything you can tell us about this unfortunate tragedy?"

He was about to start talking when a man dressed in a fairly expensive looking suit stepped into the room,

"Sorry, I'm late."

Harry stared at him, trying to assess who he was. He guessed lawyer but he could be wrong. The lawyer eyed him up and down before tsking,

"Look at him. He's still a minor and you're already treating him like a criminal. That simply won't do."

Harry watched the officer and the detective pass the lawyer withering gazes before the detective spoke,

"I wasn't sure you would be able to make it, Silas."

Silas…So that was the lawyer's name. Silas grinned and winked,

"You know me…I'm a sucker for dramatic entrances."

Silas then looked at him and smiled,

"I'm glad you haven't drunk their coffee. It's utterly disgusting."

Harry simply wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his tear soaked eyes. Silas turned to the officers and spoke,

"The boy is clearly traumatized. Do you know how the court will react to this?"

The officer and the detective exchanged an uneasy glance and Silas spoke,

"Why don't you hurry up and ask him whatever you need to? You've been holding him here for the past three hours. The kid's relatives were just murdered. The least you can do is to show him some compassion."

The officer grunted something incoherent and began asking him questions out of which, half were deflected by Silas on the count of being inappropriate or irrelevant. When Harry's statement had been recorded, he was handed back his phone and other belongings and allowed to leave. They exited the police station and Silas chaperoned him to a black SUV. He got in the back and Silas got in with him. As soon as they were in the car, Silas's phone started ringing. He picked it up and spoke,

"Yes, Sir. It's done. I have the kid with me."

There was a pause and then Silas spoke,

"Right, Sir."

He put his phone beside him on the seat and spoke,

"What did you do to make Mr. Greyback so angry?"

He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Something told him that Greyback was the least of his worries at the moment.


	50. Chapter 50

Harry was sprawled out on a thick spring mattress in the guest bedroom of Silas's house. He hadn't bothered taking off his shoes and took an unhealthy amount of glee in the now sullied white covers. He knew Greyback had asked Silas to bring him here and keep him here until he got back from New York. If Privet Drive hadn't been sealed off by the cops, he wouldn't be here.

But anyways, he was here now. The reception he'd gotten from Silas's prissy wife had been stone cold and he'd taken a violent dislike to her almost immediately. She wouldn't have let him step into the house if Silas hadn't dragged her away and told her about Greyback in hushed whispers. She'd begrudgingly had the guest bedroom prepared for him and then stalked off.

He was in a vengeful kind of mood and right now he was hating every single about the bedroom. His fingers were itching to strangle the life out of Trelawney. He'd been a fool to trust her. If he ever got the chance, he would kill her in the most painful of ways.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself but it wasn't working so he leaned forward, grabbed one of the expensive looking antique lamps from the bedside table and tossed it at the wall where it crashed noisily. He relished the sound and repeated it with the other lamp but he wasn't quite calm yet. He needed more. Breaking things wasn't going to soothe him…unless it was Trelawney's neck that he was breaking…That would surely calm him down.

He closed his eyes and imagined doing it and that cooled him down several degrees. He needed to think about this logically. Why had Trelawney lied about his whereabouts? Was she part of some scheme to set him up? If that was true then who was behind all that? Could Greyback be involved? Was Greyback behind all this? Maybe…Maybe not…

He kicked away the covers irately and smoothed his fingers over mattress. What would Greyback gain from setting him up for his relatives' murder? Was he going to use this case to blackmail him? But there wasn't a case against him yet…Silas had prevented that…If Greyback had wanted to blackmail him into submission, he wouldn't have sent a lawyer. What else then? His gratitude? No.

Okay, the other possibility was that it wasn't Greyback. Someone else was messing with him. Someone else wanted to put the murder and the robbery on him and send him away. But why would someone want that? He hadn't made any serious enemies so far…he wasn't counting Greyback at the moment. Could the twins be behind it? What could they possibly gain from his incarceration?

His head was spinning from all the possibilities and uncertainties. He hated this…everything about this…He swore if Greyback had anything to do with all this, he would disembowel him with his own bare hands. Gnashing his teeth, he laid down on his side and stared at his reflection in the mirror on the vanity.

The past few hours had drained him dry…He looked like hell and that simply wouldn't do for his confrontation with Greyback. It was going to be a battle of wits and he fully intended to win but for that he needed to be functioning at one hundred percent.

Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to fall asleep but something was just tugging at him…something was bothering him…What the hell was wrong with him? He sat up straight and pulled his knees up to his chest. Somehow, he kept thinking about Tom. He just kept thinking about him. Did someone know that he was trying to break his curse? Had someone seen him go into Riddle Manor? Was Dumbledore doing this to stop him from breaking the curse? But he didn't even know Dumbledore and Dumbledore probably didn't know him.

Unless…he did know him…Dumbledore had been devious enough to use his parents against Tom…He'd convinced them to sacrifice themselves. That took some real skill and Dumbledore possessed it. The twins had said that he was supposed to be a member of the order. Dumbledore must have kept tabs on him. He must have been watching him and didn't want him to break the curse on Tom. Maybe that's why he'd orchestrated all this…

Or…Maybe he was getting ahead of himself…The first thing he needed to do was to confront Greyback and figure out if he was behind all this or not. If he wasn't, then he'd have to figure out who exactly was after his hide and deal with them as efficiently as possible.

There was still the matter of Greyback's man trailing him all through town and watching his movements. He swore he was going to give Greyback hell for that.

Everything was getting so muddled up inside his head. He needed his notebook…He needed it more than an addict in need of a fix… At this rate he was going to lose his mind. Sleep…He needed to sleep. If only his mind would quieten down for a few minutes…just a few minutes…Everything would be fine.

He exhaled…inhaled and then changed his side but sleep evaded him and he blamed it on the bloody mattress. He didn't like it…He didn't like it at all...

Getting out of bed, he grabbed the pillow and set it down on the plush rug between the bed and the divan. He looked at the door, went to it and locked it from the inside. The covers were exactly where he'd kicked them off the bed. Grabbing them, he settled down on the rug, pulled them over himself and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for sleep to envelope him and soon enough he was drifting into sweet, wonderful, oblivion.


	51. Chapter 51

Harry was pulled back to awareness when someone slammed the door downstairs and it felt like the entire house shook with the impact. Even from his closed eyelids he knew that it was morning and the room was flooded with sunlight. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his position the rug and pretended to sleep. The door slamming could only mean that Greyback was finally here and pretending to be asleep was the only safe bet for him because Greyback's heart would surely melt at the sight of him sleeping on the rug. He was going to have to play the victim card here and he was going to have to play it very carefully. Every move from this point onwards was of utmost importance and extremely crucial.

Harry heard the knob twist but he'd locked the door last night so it didn't open. There was the sound of loud cursing and then Greyback's distinct growling voice demanding keys. He kept his eyes firmly shut and listened to the footsteps hurrying away and returning five minutes later. The key was roughly jammed into the lock and then there was that distinct click of the door unlocking. Greyback stepped into the room and Harry heard him halt somewhere near the doorway.

It was a minute later that he spoke,

"Leave."

There was the sound of footsteps leaving the room and then he heard Greyback step closer to him until he could practically smell the leather polish of his shoes. There was a slight rustling of clothes and then he felt Greyback's warm breath on his face and breathed in the scent of his peppermint toothpaste along with the faint smell of his cologne. He felt his glasses being pulled away from his face and then a feather light touch on his cheek followed by the softest of murmurs,

"You are breathtakingly gorgeous."

Harry laughed maniacally in his head. Mission Accomplished. Greyback had been successfully neutralized. He let out a soft sleepy moan…securing Greyback's affections…He heard Greyback inhale sharply and heard him murmur,

"You shall certainly be the death of me."

Greyback's moved his hand from his cheek and ran it down his neck, over his ribs until he reached his stomach and stopped. For a moment it stayed there…just above the waistband of his jeans and Harry was willing to bet everything that Greyback wanted to go lower. He dared him to go lower. This was a test of his manipulative capabilities. If Greyback did move lower then he'd failed in his endeavors to rule his heart and his mind but if Greyback didn't then he was all set.

Greyback's hand stayed there for an eternity and Harry wondered about how extraordinarily warm his palm was. The heat was seeping in through his shirt and almost smoldering his skin. Was that a werewolf characteristic? It had to be.

Finally, Greyback removed his hand and Harry chuckled triumphantly in his head. This was absolutely perfect. He let out another soft moan…just to reward Greyback before stirring…

He opened his eyes and blinked beadily before letting out a yawn. Greyback was kneeling beside him, staring at him curiously and he smiled up at him,

"Hey."

Greyback perched his glasses on top of his nose and his face came into cleared focus. He sat up straight and crossed his legs,

"What have you gotten yourself into, Harry?"

He closed his eyes and twisted his face in a look of utmost distress,

"I don't know what happened."

Greyback cupped his cheeks and Harry could almost feel the tips of his claws brush against his skin,

"What were you doing with that girl last night, Harry?"

He opened his eyes and held Greyback's gaze,

"How do you know about that?"

Greyback's gaze darkened and he half spoke half growled,

"Just answer the question."

He pushed away his hands. This was his moment to act all indignant and offended,

"It was you guy that was following me last night…"

Greyback didn't deny it so Harry scrambled up to his feet and shouted,

"YOU HAD ME FOLLWED!"

Greyback got up to his feet and in a flash, he found himself on the spring mattress with Greyback's body pinning him down. He struggled and writhed but he wasn't really trying to escape. This was good. He screamed and shouted every curse he knew at the top of his lungs until Greyback clamped a hand over his mouth and spoke,

"Calm down."

He shook his head violently…trying to push away Greyback's hand but Greyback held on fast so he went still and Greyback spoke,

"I shall remove my hand from your mouth now. If you shout again, I shall chop off that insolent tongue of yours. You shall have no need for it anyway in my bed."

When Greyback removed his hand, he raised an eyebrow and spoke,

"I'm pretty sure you will need it. It's wickedly talented when I let it out to play…"

Greyback's pupils dilated with lust and his gaze darkened further. Harry could almost see what he was imagining and took that opportunity to wriggle out from his grasp,

"Why were you having me followed? I told you to trust me."

Greyback turned around to face him and spoke,

"Clearly you cannot be trusted. What were you doing with that girl last night?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"I was using her as protection…"

Greyback scratched his chin and murmured thoughtfully,

"Elaborate."

He kept his gaze fixed on Greyback's and spoke,

"When I left Trelawney's last night, I noticed that someone was following me so instead of going back to Privet Drive, I headed over to the diner because I knew it'd be crowded. She walked up to me and I decided to use her. I wasn't going to sleep with her though. I was just going to spend the night at her place to shake off whoever was stalking me…"

He narrowed his gaze at Greyback and spoke,

"Now if I'd known that he was your bloke…I wouldn't have had to go through all that trouble."

Greyback raised his hands in a defensive gesture and spoke,

"I humbly apologize for that, Harry."

He snorted and shook his head,

"I won't believe you ever again."

Greyback rose to his feet and rested his hands on his shoulders,

"What can I do to make it all better?"

Now that was more like it. He had a whole list of things he wanted Greyback to do but there was only one that he needed done urgently,

"You'll do anything?"

Greyback nodded promptly and spoke,

"Anything."


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To Zainab,
> 
> I wish I had a better way to reach you then through chapter notes but alas, that's the way it has to be. Anyways thank you soooooooo much for your wonderful reviews. Seriously, reading them always makes my day. I've posted one of my original works on fictionpress and AO3 titled "Different than the rest" You said you were from Pakistan so I've based it there. Currently it's a one shot but I'm thinking about writing a prequel and a sequel. Let me know what you think about it. Hope you're fine. Stay blessed. Loads of Love."

He settled down on the edge of the mattress and spoke,

"Make this case go away."

Greyback raised an eyebrow before speaking,

"You mean to tell me that you don't wish to know who murdered your aunt and cousin?"

He flopped back on the mattress and shook his head,

"I'll investigate it on my own. I want the police out of this."

Greyback sat down beside him and ran his finger down his throat. Harry closed his eyes and allowed the touch and Greyback made a pleased sound,

"It shall be done."

He laughed softly and turned his head, exposing more of his neck to Greyback. After all he had earned a reward for his compliance. Greyback's touch was tentative as he stroked his finger over his pulse point and down the carotid artery. Finally, after a moment, Greyback removed his finger and asked,

"Did you kill them?"

He sat up straight and held Greyback's gaze,

"I wanted to be the one to murder them but it wasn't me. You had your guy following me last night, you should know better."

Greyback gently took a hold of his chin and spoke,

"You're clever enough to do anything, Harry."

Harry grinned lazily,

"You've grown to know me so well."

Greyback leaned closer to him and rested his other hand on his shoulder,

"Did you?"

He sobered up and shook his head,

"No, I didn't."

Greyback pulled away from him and then frowned,

"Someone is trying to set you up then."

He nodded as he rose to his feet again and stretched his arms over his head,

"Exactly… Trelawney lied last night when the police went to confirm my alibi. She's in on it."

Greyback scratched his chin thoughtfully and Harry stared at the glistening pieces of glass scattered all over the carpet and glimmering like diamonds in the sunshine flooding in through the window,

"Of course, that someone could be you…You might have killed them just to pin me down with that case and hold it over me as leverage."

Greyback threw his head back and laughed before getting up and prowling towards him,

"I don't require a case to pin you down. My bare hands are enough to get the job done."

Harry looked deep into Greyback's eyes and saw that he was telling the truth so it wasn't Greyback then. But that didn't mean that he was going to cross him out of his list of possible suspects.

He retrieved the small glass flask full of blood from the inside pocket of his jacket. The cops had only missed it because it had been hidden in the thick stitching. He handed it to Greyback and spoke,

"I want to know whose blood is this."

Greyback rolled the flask between his fingers and spoke,

"Blood?"

Harry nodded and Greyback raised a questioning eyebrow,

"Where did you get it?"

He shrugged and turned away from Greyback,

"Doesn't matter…All that matters is the name of the owner."

Greyback slipped the flask into his pocket and spoke,

"Do you have any notable enemies I should be aware of?"

Harry leaned back against the wall and rested one foot against the wall before smirking,

"Thinking of ditching me?"

Greyback ran his gaze down his body and shook his head,

"No, every new thing I learn about you only makes me want you more."

He sniggered softly,

"Come off it. Those are just fancy words. You should know by now that they don't affect me."

Greyback smirked flirtatiously,

"No harm in trying."

He laughed softly and turned his head to look out the window. The black SUV, he'd gotten here in last night was still parked in the driveway,

"How long will it take for you to get this investigation winded up?"

Greyback stepped closer to him,

"I need only snap my fingers."

Harry took his hand and whispered seductively,

"Snap your fingers."

Greyback wrapped his fingers around his hand and brought it to his lips before brushing a kiss over his knuckles and then releasing his hand. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialled a number. Harry rested a hand on Greyback's shoulder and moved his fingers lower before undoing the top two buttons of his shirt and moving his fingers over the now exposed skin that was covered with dark chest hair,

"Augustus, I have a favour to ask of you."

He twined one of the hairs around his fingers before yanking it out and chuckled silently at the way Greyback's eyes watered and his voice faltered as he told whoever Augustus was, the details of the case. He cast him a half-hearted murderous glare and Harry proceeded to unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and parting it to expose Greyback's torse. He leaned forward and breathed over one of his pink nipples and savoured the way Greyback's entire body shuddered. Grinning wickedly, he lapped at it with his tongue kittenishly and Greyback's breath hitched in his throat as he stopped talking on the phone. Harry pulled his tongue away and whispered softly enough as to not be heard by Augustus,

"If you stop talking then I'll stop."

It was so easy to see how difficult it was for Greyback to talk as he went back to licking at his nipple and then sucking it into his mouth before grazing it with his teeth. Greyback practically sagged against him at that and Harry felt his erection rub against his thigh.

He moved on to do the same to his other nipple and Greyback's breathing turned ragged and erratic. The relief was so obvious in his voice when he spoke,

"Make sure that it's done in the next hour."

And dropped the phone. Harry finally pulled his mouth away and lifted his head before meeting Greyback's needy gaze. He smirked and rested his hand on the obvious bulge in Greyback's pants before squeezing it slowly. Greyback groaned and rested his palms on either side of his head against the wall before growling,

"Finish what you started."

He clicked his tongue before slipping out from between Greyback and the wall and shook his head before saying cheekily,

"No, you'll have to get yourself off."

Harry watched the way Greyback rested his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. It was so easy to see he was trying to will his erection to go down and he felt a bit smug when despite all of Greyback's efforts, it didn't.

He settled down on the bed and spoke,

"You know you can jerk off. I'll even close my eyes if you want."

Greyback growled something incoherent before stomping off and disappearing into the bathroom. Harry laughed cheerily and shouted,

"You know I'll be able to hear you."


	53. Chapter 53

Harry looked at the single black suit laid out on the bed and couldn't help but grin. Today was going to be epic. It was going to be amazing. He'd waited for this day all his life and now it was finally here. Well, he hadn't thought it would come like this. He'd always envisioned himself as their murderer. He'd planned it in a hundred thousand different ways…thought of countless elaborate ways to kill them and take his revenge but alas it hadn't meant to be. Well, he tried not to be too gloomy about it. They were dead and that's all that mattered. His uncle was still alive and he would surely get to torment him starting from today. No one had informed him that his wife and son had been killed and he'd taken it upon himself to deliver the news to him.

The investigation had been closed. Greyback had paid off some poor sod to confess to the murders and that was the end of it. His aunt's and cousin's funeral was today and he imagined that he would have to put on a show. Well, he would gladly do it since he was so happy.

A knock on the door, forced him to tear his gaze away from the suit and he spoke,

"Come in."

The door opened and Silas stepped in,

"Mr. Greyback wanted me to inform you to take his call."

He looked around the room for his phone and found it wedged between the mattress and the bedstead. He pulled it out and looked at the number of missed calls he had,

"You can go now."

He called Greyback and held the phone to his ear,

"What's the bloody matter?"

Harry held the tapping of keys on Greyback's end and the sound of voices. He was probably in an office,

"Where were you and why were you not picking up your phone?"

He ran his fingers through his damp hair and spoke,

"I was in the shower. Are you going to tell me why you were calling or should I hang up?"

Greyback made an irritated sound and snapped at some employee before speaking,

"All the arrangements for your relatives' funeral have been made."

He rolled his eyes and started pulling the suit jacket off the hanger to get to the shirt,

"So, what should I do about that?"

Greyback made a sullen sound,

"You could thank me."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that,

"Oh, and how do you suppose I do that? Do you want me to get on my knees and lick the soles of your feet or would you prefer my mouth and tongue to be somewhere else?"

Greyback let out a soft barely audible sound that was a mixture of a moan and a whine,

"I should put a bullet through your head or stab you through the heart or just tear into you with my claws."

He smirked and sat down on the edge of the bed,

"I'm glad to hear all the nice things you think about me."

Greyback was silent after that so Harry spoke again,

"Are you coming to the funeral?"

Greyback snapped orders at someone else before he spoke,

"I have the feeling that it shall be highly entertaining, but I shall have to pass."

He was glad that Greyback wasn't coming. It was better this way. He didn't want himself to be seen with him yet,

"Catch you later then."

He ended the call and dropped the towel before dressing into the suit. Five minutes later, he was standing infront of the mirror and trying to decide which would look better…Silent mourning or hysterical crying. He could do both really really well but he didn't want to seem over the top. It had to look decent and believable. In the end, he settled on silent mourning.

He didn't bother with his hair because they made him look all the more devastated…just gave his face a few final touches before wearing his shoes and heading out. The car was waiting for him so he got in the back and spoke,

"The hospital first."

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was so difficult to wipe off the triumphant smirk off his face. His blood was thrumming with excitement to see his uncle's reaction. It was going to be truly epic,

"Could you stop somewhere on the way? I need to get flowers."

The driver nodded silently and he stared out at the window. Hopefully, tonight, he'd be able to visit Tom. He was just aching to see him. His quaint features, inky black hair, pale skin…It was all just etched into his mind and he couldn't get the image of him out of his head. The urge to see him awake was like a burning inferno in the pit of his stomach. It was surely going to burn him alive if he didn't do anything about it.

The car came to the halt and Harry looked outside and noticed that they were at the florist's. He stepped out and bought a nice big bouquet of red roses. He knew for a fact that his uncle hated them and that was the chief reason why he loved them and bought them.

The next stop was the hospital. It took him two minutes to get his sad, mourning persona in place before he stepped out and walked through the corridors towards his uncle's room. When he stepped in, he realized that his uncle was asleep. The sight just set him on fire. His uncle didn't deserve peace. He didn't deserve peace at all. Clearing his throat loudly, he watched the way his uncle stirred and opened his small mean eyes. He stepped closer to the bed and extended the bouquet towards him,

"I got you some flowers."

His uncle eyed him venomously before speaking,

"What in the bloody hell are you doing here? Where's Petunia?"

He went about removing the wilted flowers from the vase and tossing them in the dustbin and spoke in a matter of fact voice,

"Dead."

He turned back around and stepped closer to the bed again. His uncle was eyeing him with revulsion and spoke,

"Just answer the question, boy."

He smiled sadly and started arranging the fresh roses in the vase,

"It's true. They're dead. The house was robbed and they were murdered."

His uncle's eyes were popping out of their sockets and he spoke softly,

"You're a dirty little liar and a whore."

He dragged one of the chairs closer to the bed and settled down in it before smirking

"You'll find that I'm not lying in this case and as for being a whore…You're the one that sold me out. I'm merely doing my job."

The colour drained from his uncle's chubby cheeks and he turned as pale as a ghost before mouthing,

"No."

He pulled out his phone and pulled up the news article before showing it to his uncle,

"Look…"

He watched the way his uncle's eyes widened as he read the article. He was about to snatch the phone out of his hand when he spoke,

"No, I'm not letting you smash that."

He pushed the phone back into the safety of his pocket and watched as his uncle went hysterical. He was crying and screaming and shouting. He ripped out all the tubes and wires as he struggled to sit up straight. He made a move to punch him and Harry grabbed his fist tight,

"That won't work anymore, Uncle."

His uncle struggled against his grip and Harry released his hand. He took a vindictive amount of pleasure in the entire show. The nurses burst into the room and he rose to his feet. They passed him an understanding look before asking him to leave the room and he spoke loud enough so that his uncle could hear him,

"I'll be back after the funeral."

His uncle shouted and screamed his name but he paid it no heed. The nurses were going to sedate him. It was perfect that his uncle wasn't going to able to see his wife and son off. He whistled a tune to himself as he got back into the car and spoke,

"The cemetery."

The driver started driving and he burst into a fit of mad laughter. He was going to torment his uncle as much as he possibly could. This was only the beginning. There was so much more pain in store for that bastard.

Twenty minutes later, he was walking towards the funeral site, with his shoulders hunched and his head ducked. Silent tears were flowing down his cheeks and he looked the perfect emotional wreck. Almost immediately, he was being hugged and consoled by people he didn't know. Normally, he wouldn't have tolerated it but since the occasion was so joyous, he let it slide. There was also the questions about his uncle's absence and Harry just tactfully answered them.

It was a bright and sunny side and Harry internally laughed when he imagined that even the sky was happy there were two less monsters on this plane now. He was comforted throughout the funeral by strangers who were crying like they'd been the closest to his Aunt and cousin.

She was just a lovely lady…Dudley was such a precious boy…Petunia was so elegant…Dudley had such a bright future ahead of him.

Lies…They were all lies…If they'd known how horrible and vile, his aunt and cousin really had been, they wouldn't be wasting their crocodile tears here. They would probably cheer their deaths. He wasn't surprised to find the twins there but they both had that hint of a smile in their eyes and whispered congratulations in his ear when they pulled him into a combined hug. He'd been tempted to ask them whether they'd been involved in the murder but too many nosy people were surrounding them so they'd set up a lunch date for tomorrow afternoon and then they'd departed.

He sighed in exhaustion when the funeral was over and slumped back in the car seat. Immediately his phone started ringing and he pulled it out to check who it was. As expected, it was Greyback,

"How did it go?"

He laughed wickedly and spoke,

"Absolutely perfect."

Greyback chuckled as well,

"I am glad to hear that you are happy."

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and rolled his shoulders before speaking,

"I'm heading to Privet Drive now."

Greyback made a disapproving sound and Harry mentally dared him to challenge his decision but Greyback said nothing and he internally cheered at Greyback's compliance. He'd learned fast. Two years didn't seem so difficult anymore.


	54. Chapter 54

He had his eyes closed and his mind completely and blissfully blank. Currently, he was seated on the very bed, his aunt and cousin had been murdered on…at the exact same spot where they'd mutilated corpses had been. The mattress had been removed though so he was sitting on the solid wooden board but it worked for him.

There was something in this room that appealed to him. It was almost as if their screams were trapped in the air. The wonderful scent of their blood had taken permanent residence in every inch of the walls. There was an intoxicating darkness that hung heavy in the air and he wanted to breath it all in. He needed to breathe it all in. He laid back on the solid wood but made sure to keep his eyes closed. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but it was something.

When he'd arrived at Privet Drive, he'd gone straight to his room and checked his possessions under the loose floorboard. Everything was where it was supposed to be. And there was no hint that anyone had even touched them. He ran his finger over the spine of his notebook that lay right next to him on the bed along with the book Greyback had given him. Maybe he ought to try a ritual tonight.

He sat up straight and opened the book. He skipped the preface and all the warnings and other nonsense before reading through the first ritual. It seemed easy enough. The ritual was for summoning Lucifer and asking him for the fulfilment of three wished. It called for a mirror and absolute privacy. He had both. He was supposed to refrain from alcohol and sex for a week before performing the ritual and he fulfilled that condition as well.

He needed a red marker and a candle. He was pretty sure there weren't any black candles lying around the house so he'd settled for white. He got up and went around the house looking for them. He snagged the red marker from his uncle's study and grabbed a white candle from his aunt's precious candelabra. And then he went back to the bedroom and looked at the mirror in the vanity. After shrugging out of his suit jacket, he pulled the cover off the marker and got to work on the mirror.

When he was finished, he couldn't help but grin at his handiwork. A red inverted pentagram now covered his reflection. He placed the candle on one of the side cabinets and lit it up before turning off all the lights and drowning the room in complete darkness.

Finally, he settled down on the chair infront of the vanity and made the David sign with his right hand as he closed his eyes and cleared his mind of each and every thought. Finally, when he'd spent five minutes doing that, he opened his eyes and stared at his reflection, fully conscious of the inverted pentagram covering and surrounding his face.

The warning had been mentioned in red at the foot of the page and he recalled it now,

" _If you think you will be scared then you should not be performing this ritual. This is not a game. The devil will not take kindly to someone who lack belief in their own power. Self doubt and timidity is not for the practitioner of the Black Arts."_

It almost made him want to laugh. This was a game. It was all nothing but a game. He was pretty sceptical about Lucifer's existence and he highly doubted that the devil would come when he would summon him but the book stated that this was the most potent black arts ritual and he was determined to give it a try.

When he'd been staring at his reflection for five minutes, he started saying Lucifer in a soft, low voice. He was supposed to repeat it three hundred times and the book mentioned that he was supposed to keep count with his fingers but that method was for dullards. He was perfectly capable of counting and keeping track of it in his head. So he repeated Lucifer three hundred times and for a moment he thought it had worked because the door opened slowly and then there was the creaking of the floorboards. He kept his gaze fixated on his reflection even when he couldn't see it when the candle was extinguished.

Darkness surrounded him and Harry felt extremely comfortable in the midst of it all. It was utterly exhilarating. And then he felt a presence on his back…a hand on his shoulder…

And that's when he realized that the ritual hadn't worked. The person standing behind him wasn't Lucifer. He kept his eyes open and tried to make out the face in the reflection but it was just too dark. He couldn't even see himself, let alone the person standing behind him.

He cursed himself internally for letting his guard down and indulging in a bloody game but kept his posture as relaxed as he possibly could and sat silent. He willed his body to stay loose even when he felt the cool blade of a knife rest on his throat.

So…this was the man who had murdered his Aunt and cousin…He wasn't very happy about the circumstances he was meeting him but he certainly was glad that he had come to see him. Harry didn't struggle when his wrists were tied behind the chair or when he felt a blindfold cover his eyes. He leaned back in the chair and tipped his head back exposing more of his neck and giving him better access. The man laughed and ran the edge of the knife, carefully over his throat,

"I can see why he considers you a threat."

The knife vanished from his throat and he felt it being traced over his lips,

"Listen very closely. You will go to the police station in one hour and you will confess to murdering your aunt and cousin."

Harry was tempted to ask what would happen if he didn't it but the man seemed to have sensed his intentions because he tsked and made a shallow cut on his lip,

"Do as you are told and you'll live."

Yeah…In jail...

The knife disappeared from his lips and then the floorboard creaked again signalling the man's departure. He'd already been working on the knots tying his wrists together and managed to get himself free in record time. Wrenching the blindfold away from his eyes, he ran downstairs and caught a glimpse of a black coat as the man stepped out of the front door. He rushed ahead and yanked the front door open but there was no one there. Carefully, he stepped out on the porch and looked around but it was almost as if the man had vanished into thin air.


	55. Chapter 55

Harry paced the living room furiously as he continuously ran his thumb over the cut on his lip. Who had been that man? He'd mentioned that someone considered him a threat. Someone…He needed to figure out who that someone was, why they considered him a threat and what was he a threat to.

An hour…He'd been given an hour to go the police station and confess to the murders. That wasn't an option he was going to consider. He pulled out his phone and pulled up Greyback's contact but didn't call him. Was it wise to tell Greyback about what had just happened to him?

He looked around the house and then cursed loudly. He didn't want to test the authenticity of that man's threat. Staying here meant making himself vulnerable and as much as he was tempted to have another encounter with that man, he wasn't stupid. The man had all the intents to kill him and he wasn't in the mood to tempt fate.

It was true that he had no problem risking his skin but there were far too many unknowns in this situation for his liking so the only viable option for him was to disappear. He went up to his room and changed into a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. He felt an intense kind of joy when he grabbed Dudley's favorite black hoodie from his room and pulled it on. When that was done. He placed his notebook in his bag and began gathering everything he would need. He grabbed all of Dudley's snacks from the kitchen and a water bottle before stuffing them in his bag.

Riddle Manor was the obvious choice but getting there without being tracked was the real challenge. And then there was the matter of dealing with Greyback. He knew that the man would freak out if he went missing so he would have to inform him at some point. But until then, he needed to lay low. Dying wasn't on his agenda right now.

He pulled the bag over his shoulders before walking out the front door. Almost instantly he was aware of eyes on him. Going to Riddle Manor directly wasn't an option he could pursue so he started making his way to the police station. Someone was following him. He was hyperaware of a presence behind him but he squared his shoulders and kept on walking.

He tried his best to hear the footsteps but it was almost as if the person wasn't walking. It was physically impossible to be so quiet. If he didn't trust his senses, he would have thought he was just being paranoid but no…If there was one thing he trusted, it was his own faculties. So, someone was definitely following him. He almost imagined a translucent ghost floating inches away from his back and suppressed a giggle.

He was nearly at the police station when he heard a soft susurration. He would have missed it, if he hadn't been listening for it. In an instant, he spun around and saw a tabby cat sitting by a bush, licking its paw innocently…

Oh, there was nothing innocent about that cat. He just knew that at first sight. Nevertheless, he turned back around and continued making his way to the station. He was searched by the police officer on the guard duty and that's when he saw the cat's reflection again in the glass door. Oh, there was definitely something about that cat.

He just stood there for a while before turning back around and walking where he'd come from until he stepped into a dark alley and leaned back against the wall, breathed as fast as he could and pretended to have a panic attack. And then he saw the cat's shadow in the narrow band of the orangish glow of the street light.

Five minutes passed until the cat's shadow grew larger and it approached him. And then he reacted. He lurched forward and grabbed it tightly by its thin neck. The cat yowled loudly and Harry grinned as he looked into its grey eyes,

"Scream for me, little kitty."

He squeezed and the cat growled and hissed…moving this way and that…writhing in his hold to get free. He tsked and chuckled darkly,

"No, you're not going anywhere."

He pinned the cat to the wall and spoke,

"I might reconsider if you tell me all your secrets."

The cat continued to writhe and tried to get at him with its claw. He grabbed one of them with his free hand and in one swift movement snapped it. The cat went crazy in his grip but he held on before speaking coldly,

"Animal cruelty isn't my favorite hobby but I'm extremely skilled at it…just like I'm skilled at everything else I do…You messed with the wrong person, little kitty."

He snapped off the other paw and then the third and the fourth. The ear deafening screams of the cat echoed around the alleyway but who would pay attention to that at two in the morning? No one… He dropped the cat and watched it struggle to move. It would have been a heart wrenching sight but it didn't bother him one bit.

Eventually the cat stopped trying to move and Harry smirked victoriously when the cat turned into a woman…an old woman. He tipped his head back and regarded her for a moment. Her hair were dishevelled…her lined face was twisted in a look of pure agony and the way her hands and feet were bent at awkward angles told him that they were broken. He made a soft sound of pity and knelt in front of her,

"Oh, you're in for a world of hurt."

She regarded him disdainfully before speaking,

"You're heartless…"

Harry rested a hand on his chest and gasped in mock offense,

"I'm heartless? You were following me and I'm the one that's heartless?"

He threw his head back and laughed maniacally,

"No, I'm not heartless. I just learned to use my heart less."


	56. Chapter 56

He looked the woman and then his surroundings. Dragging her to Riddle Manor with him wasn't an option but interrogating her here wasn't feasible either. Rubbing his chin, he thought about what to do. He wanted to kill her. He absolutely wanted to kill her but that wasn't the sensible thing to do. She held the answers to everything and ending her life meant giving up the gold mine of information. An idea formed in his head and he crouched down in front of the woman and spoke,

"Turn back into a cat."

She glared at him like he'd personally disrespected her and spoke through gritted teeth,

"Never."

He gripped her chin tight and levelled her with his coldest look,

"I swear I will break every bone in your body until you turn back into a cat."

A sliver of fear crept into her eyes and Harry felt intoxicated by it,

"You know I'm not lying…You know I'm perfectly capable of doing it."

She tried to move again, and Harry released her chin and gripped her shoulder tight in a bone shattering hold. A soft cry escaped her lips and Harry relished it. He absolutely revelled in it,

"I can dislocate your shoulder. Just imagine how much that will hurt."

He squeezed it to emphasize his point and she began struggling frantically to get away from him,

"You have the power to stop me. Just turn back into a cat."

She finally spoke in a low, trembling voice,

"And after that?"

He put on his most earnest expression and spoke,

"And then, I'll let you go."

She didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes so he released her shoulder and spoke,

"I just want to see how you do it. Just transform for me and I'll leave you alone."

She looked dubious so Harry placed his bag down and cupped her cheeks,

"Just do it for me…please…surely it's nothing compared to your life."

She nodded her head shakily and then transformed. Harry tried not grin at the sight as he unzipped his bag. And then in a flash, he grabbed her and stuffed her into it before zipping it shut. He could feel her squirming around as he pulled his bag over his shoulders and spoke loud enough so that she could hear,

"Another thing I'm skilled at is lying."

He weaved his way through dark back alleys and deserted streets until he reached the other end of the swamp. He'd decided not to go to Riddle Manor through the main streets because he still might be followed but he'd felt no hints of it so it was safe to assume that he wasn't. But even then, he wasn't willing to risk it. Going through the swamp would ensure that he would lose any pursuers if he had missed any.

He rolled his jeans up to his knees and removed his shoes before entering the swamp. Barefooted, he made his way through all the muck until he saw Riddle Manor in the distance. The cat had gone still in his bag and Harry wondered if she had suffocated. He hoped not. It took him five minutes to get to the back door and get himself inside.

Once in, he made his way to the storage room, he'd discovered on the ground floor. It took him fifteen minutes of fumbling in dust to find what he was looking for and once he had it, he made his way to the mouldy living room and finally unzipped his bag before gripping the cat from the loose skin around its neck and holding it up. Her eyes were closed but her heartbeat was still going. He dropped it in a moth-eaten chair and then tied up its broken legs together. She wouldn't be able to move even if he didn't tie her up but he didn't want to take any chances.

Once he was satisfied, he grabbed his bag and headed straight towards the crypt. When he stepped inside, it was colder than he remembered it but something inside him warmed up at the sight of Tom. He walked closer to the coffin and ran his finger over Tom's lips gently,

"How's my favorite princess?"

He grinned. Tom really was his favorite person in the world. He suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that he couldn't talk or move or do anything in general,

"I hope you missed me."

Of course, Tom didn't reply. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and spoke softly,

"I missed you a lot."

He continued stroking Tom's hair and wondered whether he should speak out everything that was going on. Then he decided against it. He wasn't about to whine about his issues to Tom,

"Well, I hope you can tolerate me for a while."

He laughed softly,

"I'll try not to bother you too much but no promises."

He traced his finger over Tom's closed eyelids and burned to see the colour of them. He wanted to see Tom awake. He needed to see him awake. His lip was still stinging where the man had cut it. Slowly, he leaned over him and cautiously brushed his lips against his forehead. He didn't know why he did that, he just wanted to…He wanted to feel every inch of his skin with his lips. There was nothing sexual about it either. It was just an urge...a craving…He moved his lips lower and kissed Tom's eyelids one by one before kissing his cheeks…He looked ridiculous…showering a possible corpse in kisses…but Tom wasn't a corpse…He was alive. Every time his lips brushed against his skin, he felt that gentle thrumming of life. It was beautiful, and he felt absolutely fascinated by it. Carefully, he inched his lips lower and pressed a kiss to the space between Tom's lips and his nose and then he drew away.

A true love's kiss…That was traditionally how the curse was supposed to be broken he didn't love Tom. He was incapable of feeling it. Love didn't exist anyway. It was just a fable…a sickness that weakened the mind and the soul…Love was nothing but a mixture of lust and longing. Love was a cocktail of brain chemicals, dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, endorphin. It was nothing more, nothing less.

But that was all irrelevant in that moment because he wanted to feel those lips with his. He wanted it so bad and he always got what he wanted as long as it was within reason and conformed to his agenda. He braced his hand on the edge of the coffin and leaned over Tom before engrossing his lips with his.


	57. Chapter 57

And nothing…

He pulled away his lips and stared at Tom's face for a moment…a part of him secretly hoping that he might see his eyelids flicker…his lips part…the slightest sign of movement but there was nothing… He tried not to feel too disappointed but he was…he was disappointed because for a moment, a small part of him had been desperately hoping that a kiss would be enough to wake him up.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes,

"I guess a kiss is not the way to break your curse, Sweetheart."

Leaning against the coffin, he stared blankly at the wall as he fought the waves of disappointment roiling through his stomach. He absolutely loathed it when things didn't go his way. Resisting the urge to stamp his feet on the ground, he walked to the farthest wall and settled down on the cold stone floor,

"I wish you could tell me how to break your curse."

There was nothing, but silence and Harry cursed loudly and rose to his feet. He was frustrated and he needed to get that out on someone…precisely a cat slash old woman. Information extraction through torture wasn't his forte. He usually employed his charm and charisma to get whatever he wanted but he was pretty certain that sweet-talking wasn't going to get him what he needed in this case. Practice made perfect though and he was going to make sure that he got all the practice he could get,

"I'll try not to bother you too much but excuse the screaming and mewling that might follow. I hope you don't mind but I brought a guest. Of course, she won't be staying for long. I'll make sure of that."

He grabbed his bag from stomping his way back out of the crypt and up the steps. When he stepped back into the room, he discovered that she was still a cat. Her eyes were open though and he couldn't help but grin at that. She tried to scurry into the armchair and Harry imagined that she probably wanted to bury herself in it judging from the concentrated fear evident in those yellow eyes. The sight just thrilled him and set his blood on fire. That surge of power he felt in that moment was absolutely intoxicating. There was no other way to describe it.

Now, he needed a tool. He definitely needed to get a pocket knife. It would have been perfect in this situation. Oh well, he would get one later. For now, he would have to improvise. There was the kitchen. Surely there would be one sharp knife there that had survived the tides of time. He grinned at her slowly and then spoke,

"I'll be right back. Try not to get too lonely without me."

He leisurely made his way to the kitchen and searched through the drawers and cabinets, finding nothing but rusty knives, forks and spoons. They simply wouldn't do. He was just rummaging through the bottom most drawers when he found a meat cleaver that seemed in relatively good shape. The maniacal giggle that escaped his lips sounded inhuman, even to his own ears.

He placed the meat cleaver on the counter and straightened up. This was definitely going to be fun. Tightening his hold over the handle, he purposefully made his way back to the living room and found that she had turned back into a woman. It was almost like she was hoping that he would take pity on her because of her gender and her age.

No, he'd always been against gender indiscrimination. In fact, he fashioned himself to be quite the feminist. Women deserved to be held equal to men, whether it was in financial terms or otherwise…The same thing applied to cruelty and torture. What applied to a man, applied to a woman. He set the meat cleaver down on the small table and spoke,

"I'm glad you decided to revert to your original shape."

He began pacing on the mouldy carpet and spoke,

"Let's be very clear about something. I need information from you and I will get it any cost. The fact that you're an old lady doesn't affect me so don't expect kindness or mercy from me."

She practically cowered in fear and Harry relished the sight of it,

"So, either you tell me everything by your own violation or I'll have no choice but to resort to violence."

Her gaze was fixated on the meat cleaver on the table and Harry snapped his fingers which made her look at him,

"I'm leaving the choice to you. That's the most mercy you'll see from me."

Harry could see that she was trying to move her broken appendages, but it was useless. He paced around the room silently for the next five minutes and when those five minutes were up, he spoke,

"Okay, I guess that was enough time for you to reach a decision."

She was trembling uncontrollably, and Harry saw the way her lined face twisted with a mixture of pain and fear. He ran his finger over the meat cleaver and spoke,

"This is how its going to work. I'm going to ask you some questions and you will answer them truthfully. If you don't answer them, I'll have to employ the cleaver until you do answer them. That's not very difficult to understand, is it?"

The woman just stared at him in terror and he tsked,

"It seems it is difficult for you to understand."

He sighed in mock exasperation and spoke,

"I just asked you a question, you're supposed to answer it."

She finally rasped out in a low, broken voice,

"I…I…understand."

He smiled and clapped his hands enthusiastically,

"There… Now that wasn't difficult to do, was it?"

She closed his eyes and he stepped closer to her,

"Here's another rule. You're supposed to keep your eyes open for the duration of the interrogation so that I can judge whether you're lying to me or telling me the truth."

She opened her eyes and Harry ran his finger down her cheek,

"Good…If you close them again, I'll chop your eyelids off. Imagine how painful that will be."

Harry could tell that she was fighting to keep her eyes open. He removed his finger from her cheek and straightened up,

"Tell me your name."

She looked at him for a moment before speaking,

"Minerva McGonigal."

He pulled out his phone and typed her name in the search bar. Nothing notable came up so he spoke,

"Do you use the social media?"

She shook her head but Harry noticed the way her gaze slightly dipped,

"That was your first and last lie."

She finally rattled off her facebook handle and he searched for it before grinning,

"You have beautiful grandchildren. It would be such a shame if any harm befell them. Do they know that you can turn into a cat and spy on people? Or maybe they can all turn into cats. I'd love to snap all their paws if that's the case."

She was staring at him in horror, but he ignored her and scrolled through her profile before speaking,

"Phoenix Solutions…Is that the label, the order operates under?"

Her eyes couldn't possibly get any bigger with shock. They looked ready enough to pop out of their sockets. The twins would surely find out everything about Minerva but they had mentioned that they were members of the order and he couldn't trust them in this regard,

"Yeah I know all about the order and what you people really do."

He typed Phoenix Solutions in the search bar but no official website popped out. The was strange for a company in this era. He put his phone away and spoke,

"You must know who I am."

She didn't speak, and Harry fingered the handle of the meat cleaver. She must have gotten the message because she spoke,

"Harry Potter."

There was a certain charm to hearing his own name,

"Yes, my parents were members of your dubious organization. What I want to know is why I am being set up for murders I didn't commit? Why was I threatened to go to the police station and turn myself in?"

She shook her head and spoke,

"I don't know…I don't know…I was just supposed to make sure you went to the police station."

He picked up the meat cleaver and stepped closer to her,

"You do know…You know everything…"

He ran the blunt edge of it over her cheek and spoke,

"Is Dumbledore the CEO of Phoenix Solutions?"

She hesitated before nodding. He set the cleaver down in her lap and spoke,

"Why does he want me in jail?"

She burst into tears and spoke,

"I don't know…I keep telling you I don't know anything…"

He picked up the cleaver and sighed. He could tell that she really didn't know which meant that she was useless to him,

"I'll say goodbye to your grandchildren for you."

Before she could beg for her life. He swung it over her neck. The blade wasn't sharp enough to sever her head clean off but it managed to cut through most of the vital arteries, showering the chair and the mouldy carpet in a spray of blood. He stepped back and stood a safe distance away as he watched her bleed out. He really didn't want to get his clothes dirty since he hadn't brought along spare ones. It took a while for the blood flow to stop and when it did, Harry wondered about what he was going to do with the body. He wasn't really worried though. There was an entire swamp in his backyard. He could just chuck it in there and the swamp would take care of the rest.

He was just thinking that when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He let it ring for a good fifteen minutes before he placed the meat cleaver back down on the side table and fished out his phone,

"Yeah."

Greyback's voice seemed forcibly calm when he inquired,

"Where are you?"

He leaned back against the wall and asked,

"Missing me?"

Greyback growled,

"I am not in the mood for games, Harry. There has been another murder at Privet Drive and I thought it was you…Do you have any idea how…"

Harry pushed away from the wall and cut him off,

"Another murder?"


	58. Chapter 58

 

 

 

Harry stood in the dark alleyway with his hood pulled low over his head and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He was agitated…more than agitated...Greyback hadn't told him who'd been murdered and he'd been going crazy raking the internet for information. He'd gotten nothing, so he'd busied himself with tossing the body into the swamp and cleaning the meat cleaver and then Greyback had sent him the coordinates of this place and told him to be here.

And here he was. It was nearly dawn. The sky was a dark inky purple and the sun was sure to rise soon. His breath misted in front of his face in little puffs of smoke. It was cold, but it wasn't bothering him. What was bothering him was the fact that there had been another murder at Privet Drive. Who had they killed? It was so obvious that they were still trying to frame him. He just couldn't understand why? If they wanted him out of the way then why not just have him killed? Why go through all this trouble?

He leaned back against the wall and pulled his hands out of his pockets before holding them up to his face and staring at them. They didn't look any different or feel any different. Somehow, he'd always imagined he'd start seeing bloodstains all over them when he would finally kill someone…He'd always known that he would eventually kill someone…Psychopaths were usually driven to murder… A sentence from a research paper he'd once studied echoed in his head,

_It has been suggested that psychopathy is associated with "instrumental", also known as predatory, proactive, or "cold blooded" aggression, a form of aggression characterized by reduced emotion and conducted with a goal differing from but facilitated by the commission of harm._

He replayed what he'd felt at that moment. Nothing…He'd felt nothing and that was a good thing. Guilt and remorse were for the weak…Sadness, grief, disbelief, sorrow…these were all useless sentiments and he had no space for. Death was inevitable. Everyone had to die at some point so the cause didn't matter. Be it a heart attack or a meat cleaver…she would have died eventually…

A black SUV pulled up outside the alleyway and he stepped out of the shadows. The headlights were killed and then the door was opened. In an instant, he was being held tight in strong arms and Harry's first reaction was to kick the guy hard in the nuts but considering that it was Greyback, he willed himself to relax. This was what he'd wanted…This is how he'd conditioned him. The fact that it had worked so well made him want to grin, but he repressed that.

Greyback retreated a few steps back but maintained his hold on his shoulders. He pulled back the hood and Greyback smiled…genuinely smiled. Harry was surprised that he actually looked handsome,

"You're fine…"

It wasn't a statement. It was more like an uncertain inquiry. He smiled back,

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Greyback raised his finger and traced the cut over his lip,

"How did that happen?"

He tipped his head back, away from Greyback's thumb,

"Long story."

Greyback stepped closer to him,

"I want to hear it…all of it…every single detail…"

He contemplated how much he should tell Greyback and then decided on telling him everything about the intruder. He rattled off everything that had happened upto the point when he'd walked up to the entrance of the police station and then retreated to a safe house. Of course, he wasn't about to tell Greyback the location of the safe house or anything about Minerva McGonigal.

By the end of it, Greyback seemed both agitated and angry,

"You could have bothered to inform me. I could have had you picked up."

He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Greyback sighed in exasperation,

"I don't understand why you won't agree to leave this bloody town."

Greyback started leading him towards the car and opened the door for him,

"Get in."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Greyback quickly added,

"Please."

He smirked and stepped into the car before settling in the seat. Greyback got in beside him and finally Harry spoke,

"I've already told you that I won't leave until my 18th birthday."

Greyback growled,

"That is still a week away. Heaven knows how many murders you'll be framed for by then."

He leaned back against the seat and spoke coolly,

"Speaking of murders, I want to know who was killed."

Greyback told the driver some address. Only when the car had started moving did Greyback speak,

"She was one of your exes…The red head… The one whose brothers came to visit you at the hospital."

He entwined his fingers and rested his chin atop them,

"Ginny."

Greyback nodded uneasily. He closed his eyes and contemplated how he was supposed to react to that. Should he cry? Would it look too melodramatic…too fake? It was essential to show some compassion because he didn't want Greyback to think that he was heartless. If he showed what he was really feeling right now then Greyback might think that he didn't care about anyone and he might withdraw from him. He couldn't allow that…wouldn't allow that…On the other hand, if he showed too much emotions then Greyback might think that he'd still fancied her, and he might start nursing disdain for him due to that. Both options were equally unacceptable. So, he would have to put on his best act.

He made sure that his features reflected the non-existent pain, the news of Ginny's demise had brought him and then spoke,

"What else?"

Greyback wrapped an arm around his waist in a show of comfort and he buried his head on his shoulder,

"The way things ended between us was anything but amicable, but I never wished her harm."

Greyback stroked his hair gently and Harry wanted to break his fingers one by one but this was important,

"What else can you tell me about the murder?"

Greyback hesitated for a moment before speaking,

"The walls were plastered in pictures of you and her and there was note written on the floor with what seems like blood."

He wrapped his fingers around Greyback's arm and asked,

"What did the note say?"

Greyback pulled out his phone and showed him a picture of the words written in blood on the living room wall.

_You tried to slit my throat, Bitch. You failed but I didn't. This is payback._


	59. Chapter 59

Harry's mind was hard at work as he took in the meaning of those words. The only people who knew that Ginny had tried to slit his throat were him, the twins and their man servant, Nott. Could the twins be behind all this? The chances of that were very high. After all, they were members of the order and so were their parents. What he couldn't understand was how they could have convinced Ginny's parents to sacrifice her. Well, Dumbledore was a crooked bastard. He'd convinced his parents to sacrifice themselves to get rid of Voldemort. He could have employed the same technique on the Weasleys.

Greyback traced his cheekbone,

"Care to share what's going on in your mind?"

Harry closed his eyes and circled Greyback's wrist with his finger. He wanted to pry his hand away but refrained,

"Only a handful of people knew that she tried to slit my throat."

Greyback made a sound that indicated that he was thinking before he spoke,

"Will you tell me the names?"

Harry was tempted to make a list and pass it on to Greyback but that wouldn't solve anything. He straightened up in the seat and Greyback finally stopped touching his cheek,

"No. They're irrelevant."

Greyback huffed in annoyance and spoke,

"Someone wants you behind bars, Harry. And, I am very certain that you know who that someone is. Why won't you share his identity with me? I can get rid of him for you."

Somehow, he knew that Greyback was incapable of getting rid of Dumbledore, but he still said his name,

"Albus Dumbledore."

Greyback inhaled sharply and that was all the conformation he needed to ascertain that Dumbledore really was out of Greyback's league and he wasn't capable of handling him. The rest of the drive passed in silence until they reached Silas's house. Once they were inside, Greyback led him straight to the extravagant living room and sat him down on the couch before settling down beside him. He finally inquired in a low voice,

"Dumbledore?"

He nodded and saw the contempt in Greyback's eyes,

"Why would he want you imprisoned?"

He leaned back on the couch and propped his feet up on the sleek glass coffee table,

"I don't know."

Greyback scowled at him for a moment and was about to speak when Andrew stepped into the room and handed Greyback a manila folder. Greyback immediately ripped it open and pulled out a sheaf of papers from inside it.

He watched the way Greyback's eyes widened in shock as he went through the papers. He looked utterly baffled when he put the papers down on the table next to his feet. He grabbed them and realized that the top most one was his birth certificate and the rest of them were newspaper clippings about his parents' mysterious deaths. Greyback sounded utterly bemused when he spoke,

"I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

He tossed the papers back on the table and closed his eyes. Now, Greyback knew about his parents. Judging by his reaction, he also knew about Voldemort and the part he'd played in defeating him. He didn't know how that would change things, but he was prepared for all contingencies. The best-case scenario was that Greyback would help him in outwitting Dumbledore. The worst case was that Greyback might turn out to be one of Voldemort's long-lost followers and wish to avenge him by killing him.

Greyback gripped his chin tightly and Harry opened his eyes to meet his gaze,

"Judging by how bloody calm you are, you are aware of your significance."

He smirked lazily,

"Significance?"

Greyback released his chin and rose to his feet,

"How the hell could I have been so blind?"

He stretched his legs and folded his arms behind his head,

"Blind or Ignorant?"

Greyback said nothing as he paced the living room. Harry continued,

"I mean you were very thorough in your research. I always wondered why you neglected to investigate my parentage. It should have been the first thing you should have looked at. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't know my 'significance' as you put it until a few days ago either."

Greyback turned around to face him and glared at him,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He tipped his head back,

"You never brought it up."

Greyback growled in agitation and shoved his fingers through his hair, messing them up,

"Do you have any idea how much this will influence everything?"

Harry rose to his feet,

"I'm a dullard incapable of understanding this. Kindly explain this to me."

Greyback stared hard at him condescendingly and spoke,

"There's an entire group of people that want nothing more than to see you die because of what you did to their master."

He tilted his head in mock innocence and spoke,

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Greyback nodded,

"Yes, you are and it's a bloody miracle that none of them got to you. I imagine that you carry some protection inside your blood that has kept you from harm so far."

He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"Protection?"

Greyback nodded,

"Yes, protection."

He raised his hand and spoke coldly,

"I've stopped believing in that nonsense so save it."

Greyback looked like he wanted to argue but contented himself with affixing him with a scowl. He grinned internally. It seemed he still had Greyback eating out the palm of his hand. That was a promising sign,

"Dumbledore wants me in prison and I have no idea why. I think you can help me with that."

Greyback once again ran his fingers through his already mussed up hair and spoke,

"What did you do to make Dumbledore your enemy?"

He chuckled darkly,

"Nothing…Not yet…But I do intend to destroy him in the near future. He has no idea who he's messed with."


	60. Chapter 60

Harry was pacing the room restlessly. It had been six days since Ginny's death but the case was still going strong and he was still wanted. It turned out that the police had found quite a lot of evidence on the scene that pointed to him. His hair, traces of his blood and his fingerprints had been all over the scene. The murder had been planned out very thoroughly and despite Greyback's best efforts, the case hadn't been swept under the rug because of the fear and outrage that had spread through the town on the murders. If it were up to them, they would probably come after him with pitchforks and torches and that was partly the reason Greyback had requested that he stay at Silas's place and out of harm's way.

He'd been spending all his energies on finding out everything he could on Dumbledore and his organization but to his utmost frustration, he'd come up blank. It turned out that Dumbledore was extremely paranoid when it came to using technology. He made sure to keep all his data on paper, locked away some place only he himself knew the location of. So, the internet was useless.

Greyback had discouraged him from messing with Dumbledore over and over again but what the man failed to understand was that he hadn't messed with Dumbledore…Dumbledore had messed with him so retaliation was his right.

On top of everything else, he hadn't found a way to wake up Tom so that only served to add to his already mounting vexation. Greyback was determined to fly him out to New York as soon as he was eighteen, which he was going to be in exactly ten minutes.

No way was he leaving this town without getting his due right. Tomorrow, he was going to meet his Uncle's lawyer. He suspected he had the will…but he wasn't certain. He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed verbally.

Greyback would expect him to sign the contract soon and he saw no way out of that. He had a few conditions in his mind but no amount of conditions could make the upcoming two years any easier on him. Greyback wanted him…desired him very strongly and nothing could convince him otherwise.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He was strong enough to endure it. In fact, he was going to make sure that he made the most of it. He was going to study further, get a degree, pursue a career… But all of that wasn't going to be possible if he had Ginny's murder on his record so he needed to be free from that before he could do anything else.

He was just lost in these thoughts when a knock on the door forced him out of them,

"Come in."

The door opened and Greyback stepped into the room followed by Andrew who was carrying a…

Harry bit back a gasp.

It was a birthday cake…

No one had ever gotten him a birthday cake. Greyback pulled him into a tight hug and Harry willed himself to relax in his arms,

"You shouldn't have…"

Greyback pulled back and cupped his cheek. He was smiling. Harry had a hard time getting used to how uncharacteristically handsome he looked when he smiled,

"You could say that I'm selfish, Harry. Your birthday brings me joy because I can finally touch you…"

Greyback stroked his cheek and ran a finger down his neck over his chest, until it was resting on top of the button of his jeans,

"I can finally claim you…"

Harry looked into Greyback's eyes and grinned,

"You need to learn patience."

Greyback removed his finger and Harry took his hand before kissing the back of it,

"I'm yours, Fenrir."

He kissed each one of Greyback's fingers before pulling his lips away. The look of pure infatuation on Greyback's face was worth it. It was so clear that he was utterly smitten with him.

Andrew handed him the knife and spoke,

"Blow out the candles and make a wish before cutting the cake."

A wish…One wish…There were so many but only one echoed inside his skull as he blew out the candles.

_I wish to see Tom awake…I wish to see Tom awake…I wish to see Tom awake…_

When he cut the cake, Greyback sung the entire Happy Birthday song to him and Harry couldn't help but giggle breathlessly through the duration of it. He'd never celebrated his birthday so celebrating it with Greyback just messed with his mind.

He fed Greyback a small piece of the cake and then another one to Andrew before licking the cream from his fingers as sensually as possible. The lust in Greyback's eyes only encouraged him and he internally laughed.

Greyback dismissed Andrew and told him to close the door on his way out. When they had some privacy, Greyback pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to him,

"This is your birthday present."

As soon as Harry reached out to take it Greyback pulled it back,

"But you can't have it until you sign the contract."

Harry stared at the envelope for a moment and then smirked,

"I won't sign the contract until you give me my present."

He was very curious to know what the envelope contained but he was damned if he let his curiosity show. He could tell that the cogs were turning in Greyback's brain. Finally, Greyback extended the envelope to him and Harry tore it open only to stare in disbelief at what met his eyes.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I literally suck at replying to your comments but I love you guys and appreciate your love and support a lot. Special thanks to Minjain,I'm soooooooooooo super glad you finally got an account. Seeing your reviews brings so much joy. My sincerest gratitude to thoughtfullycoolbasement, MarvelousMarvelite, Jejjaboss, It_is_I, Topa, StarOfFeanor, Mandy, hope_nagai, crystallocks122, tatianachase, Malenda_Malfoy, Farahkhaled, Mila, Helfi and Blackbeak. Your feedback is the only thing that keeps me going. Seriously, I don't think I would have the motivation to write if it weren't for your support.

Harry flipped the card over in his hand and spoke,

"James Evans."

Greyback was grinning like mad and Harry retrieved the other item from the envelope which was a passport. James Evans…He voiced the name again and again until it felt right on his tongue. He finally asked,

"Why?"

Greyback took his hand in his and rubbed soothing circles over the back of his thumb. It wasn't soothing at all. This hadn't been on his plans. He hadn't anticipated this. It frustrated him when things didn't go his way. He hated surprises. Now he would have to recalibrate everything.

"Harry, I have employed all my resources, but it seems that the case on you cannot be closed due to the abundance of incriminating evidence and public demand."

He glared at Greyback as he held up the passport and ID,

"And this is your solution?"

Greyback nodded solemnly,

"Yes, this is the best possible solution for you."

He rose to his feet and tossed the ID and Passport on the bed,

"You'd better explain this to me."

Greyback got up to his feet and held his shoulders,

"Harry, there are people who want you dead…Heaven knows, what Dumbledore wants from you but whatever it is, it isn't good…You're wanted for murder… Things are not looking good for you. You're sharp enough to know that you cannot live like that."

Harry gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers. Greyback was right of course. He'd been thinking the exact same thing a few minutes back but this…this wasn't the solution he'd come up…

"You have the potential to be great, Harry. I don't want to see you ever get hurt."

There was so much honesty in Greyback's blue eyes and he couldn't stand the sight of it. It disgusted him. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow,

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

Greyback took his wrists in his hands and pulled his arms away from his chest,

"No…"

He yanked his wrists out of Greyback's hold and turned his back on him,

"Allow me to remind you exactly how you came to meet me in the first place. You were buying me as a sex slave from my uncle…That's all you want from me…That's the only potential you see in me so don't pretend that you care about me or my well-being…You only care about your interests."

In the blink of an eye, Greyback was holding him pinned against the nearest wall. Harry felt slightly dazed by his speed and agility but then gave himself a mental slap. Greyback was a bloody werewolf, he was supposed to be fast. He turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He could tackle Greyback to the ground if he wanted it but he didn't want to upset things with him at the moment. Greyback gripped his chin tight and forced him to face him but he refused to open his eyes,

"Look at me!"

He shook his head and felt Greyback's sharp claws dig into his skin,

"OPEN YOUR EYES, HARRY!"

He did then and made sure he projected all his contempt through his gaze. Pain didn't bother him, it never had…it never did… Greyback retracted his claws and released his chin. There was a hint of remorse in his eyes as he spoke,

"Look what you made me do."

He smoothed his fingers over the small bleeding incisions his claws had made. Harry held his gaze and finally spoke,

"You didn't refute my statement. I'm nothing more than a sex slave to you."

Greyback produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping away the blood,

"I didn't refute it because it isn't worth it. I don't need to prove anything to you, Harry."

Harry rested the back of his head against the wall and laughed bitterly,

"You're right. I'm nearly your property now. Why would you feel the need to prove anything to me?"

Greyback tsked and met his gaze again as he pulled away the handkerchief,

"Don't misuse my words. You know exactly what I meant when I said that."

Harry scoffed angrily,

"No, I don't know what you meant."

Greyback leaned forward and rested his forehead against his as he cupped his cheeks,

"I have a vision for you, Harry."

Harry wasn't unaware of how physically close Greyback was to him. They were practically breathing in the same air. The softness in Greyback's gaze seemed so uncharacteristic to everything he'd known and learnt about him. He inquired softly,

"A vision?"

Greyback's lips were inches away from his as he spoke barely above a whisper,

"You know when I first saw you…I just knew that you weren't like anyone else…that you weren't what you let on…"

Greyback paused and then laughed gently,

"Something about you just pulled me towards you…like a moth to the flame... And then that second night, in the car, you proved all my intuitions about you to be true. And that's when I had that vision about you..."

There was a tenderness in Greyback's voice as his voice dropped lower,

"I saw you ruling my business empire with me… You were there, by my side, the epitome of efficiency and perfection… With a little effort, I will make that vision a reality… I've never been the trusting type but when I look at you, I think I can trust you…I want to trust you… Can I trust you?"

Harry rested his lips against Greyback's and wrapped his arms around his waist,

"Thus, hath the candle singed the moth."


	62. Chapter 62

He stared at the black-framed wall clock for the ninth time this hour, scrutinizing the second hand, which seemed to linger an extra minute at every passing second. Taking his gaze off of the clock, he silently vowed to not look at it once more until absolutely necessary. After an endless session of pacing the navy-blue carpeted floor, he had managed to sit himself down on one of the monotonously grey waiting chairs. A picture of a beach was sprawled on each wall, each depicting beautiful scenery: rolling waves on idyllic sand. Across from him was a tiny black wooden coffee table holding outdated magazines. A television hung in one corner displaying boring commercials. He adjusted his hoodie and tapped his foot on the carpet imapatiently.

The sudden sound of a door creaking open caught his attention and his eyes shifted to the door to see a young woman in her 30s stepping out. She spoke in a clear-cut voice and informed him that Mr. Fudge was ready to see him now. Harry nodded his head silently as he rose to his feet. She spun around on her four-inch black stiletto heels and walked away. Harry had a vision of stabbing her with one of them and internally laughed at the image.

He stepped into the large office and found Mr. Fudge, a short, stout man in a pinstriped suit seated behind a sleek glass desk. He leered at him as he stepped into the office and signalled him to take a seat as he finished a conversation on the phone,

"You can take the hood off now, Mr. Potter."

He did and Fudge smirked. Harry wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth out then but forced himself to remain calm and spoke as politely as possible,

"I'm here to claim my inheritance."

Fudge clasped his fingers in front on him and leaned back in his chair,

"I assume you brought the will."

Harry stared at him stonily because he wasn't sure whether Fudge was joking or not,

"I was supposed to bring the will?"

Fudge unclasped his fingers and rubbed his chin,

"Yes, Vernon kept the will locked up in his safe. I assumed that you brought it along."

Harry's brain ran overtime as he connected the dots. The robbery was beginning to make so much more sense now. He'd seen the unlocked safe. Had the will been in there? If he'd known he would have stolen it ages ago. He ran his hands over his thighs as he thought about what he was going to do now,

"I can't claim my inheritance if I don't have the will?"

Fudge shook his head and spoke,

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter."

He cursed internally. This was just bloody perfect. He had a flight to New York tonight and before that he was supposed to sign that contract with Greyback. He had never anticipated being empty handed and he realized now that that had been a mistake. Assumptions were fatal. That was the lesson he'd learned.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath to calm himself down. Everything was still under control. Greyback didn't know he'd been waiting on his inheritance, so he was good on that ground. But… he still couldn't get over the fact that someone had bested him…No…Not someone…Dumbledore… Dumbledore had bested him. The old man had stolen everything from him. His life…his identity…maybe even his inheritance….

His inheritance…He couldn't understand what Dumbledore could do with that will. As far as he knew, Dumbledore hadn't been mentioned on it…But, everything was possible when you had money. It wasn't difficult to have a fake will created and he was certain that now that he'd gotten the real will out of the way, he was going to put forward the fake one and claim everything.

He was going to destroy him… He was going to destroy that bastard if it was the last thing he did…

He was just thinking that when the door swung open and Harry turned around and laid eyes on none other than the man he'd just been fantasizing about murdering. Despite the anger flooding his chest like molten lava, he managed to maintain his calm veneer and smiled lazily as he rose to his feet and regarded the man.

Albus Dumbledore was tall and thin with long hair and beard that were auburn. He had blue eyes that seemed light, bright and sparkling but Harry knew the monster that lurked behind them. He looked ridiculously young considering how old he was and the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing didn't help matters at all.

But more than anything, he felt the power he was radiating. He had that commandeering air to him that would make anyone fall at his feet and suddenly it wasn't so difficult to imagine how he made people worship him.

For a moment, the picture of him from all those years back swam on the forefront of his mind and it took him everything he had in him to stay calm. Emotions would not get him anywhere. He needed to be level headed right now more than anything.

Dumbledore's penetrating blue eyes leveled in on him and Harry met his gaze head on as he maintained his smile. It was Dumbledore that broke the silence,

"Harry…You look just like your father…But your eyes…You have your mother's eyes…"

Oh, the nerve of that old bastard. Bringing up his parents that he'd sacrificed to hide his own follies. He was tempted to call him out on that but refrained and spoke as innocently as possible,

"I wouldn't know…I've never really seen them."

Dumbledore stepped closer to him and smiled benignly but Harry saw the malice in his eyes,

"Your reputation does not do you justice."

When he didn't reply for a moment, Dumbledore spoke,

"Cornelius, would you be kind enough to give us some privacy?"

Harry watched Fudge nod from the corner of his eye and watched him leave. All his senses were on high alert and he knew that whatever was coming, wasn't good. Dumbledore settled down in the seat Fudge had just vacated and spoke in a soft yet demanding voice,

"Sit down, Harry."

He never took well to orders but if he wanted to win this…whatever this was…He would have to play along…at least for the moment…

He sat down and Dumbledore's lips curved upwards slightly as he spoke,

"Smart boy."


	63. Chapter 63

Harry was laser focused on Dumbledore and his every move. He was curious about what this was about but had an inkling that it wasn't anything good…as Greyback had put it,

"You have been very difficult to track for the past one week."

Harry ran his finger over the polished arm rest of his chair and spoke,

"Can I ask why you were trying to track me down?"

Dumbledore laughed, and Harry felt the hair on his arms stand on their ends,

"Surely, you are not as naïve as you appear to be."

He tiled his head and feigned a look of total innocence,

"I'm sorry but I don't understand."

Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked across the desk towards him,

"I think it is high time that you showed me your true self. I already know everything there is to know about you. I am even aware of your recent affiliation with Fenrir Greyback."

He rested his head against the back of the seat and grinned. He had half a mind to tell Dumbledore that he knew everything about him too but that was his trump card and he was saving it for later,

"Why would someone as important as you feel the need to know so much about little ol' me?"

Dumbledore smirked,

"You are quite right about your insignificance."

He knew Dumbledore was trying to goad him into doing something incriminating but he wasn't going to take the bait. When he didn't speak for a moment. Dumbledore spoke again,

"You must be wondering why I am here."

He nodded his head silently. Sometimes silence was the perfect weapon and he could tell that it was working by the growing irritation in Dumbledore's voice,

"Your parents left their entire estate along with all their wealth to you. I simply needed to get you out of the way to acquire it."

Harry finally voiced the question that had been stewing inside his head for a few days now,

"Why?"

Dumbledore stepped closer to him,

"Beg your pardon?"

Harry cleared his throat and spoke,

"Why not simply have me killed? Why did you need to have me convicted for murder?"

Dumbledore chuckled darkly,

"Because in the event of your death, the entire inheritance will simply vanish."

That didn't make any sense whatsoever. Dumbledore had the will. He could have changed it. He was not obligated to keep him alive. Dumbledore cut through his train of thought and spoke,

"You do not seem to understand the intricacies of a magical will and truth be told, there is no need for you to."

Magical…Now things were starting to make sense. It seemed his parents hadn't been as uncaring as he'd considered them to be. But still… He was still a bit confused about why Dumbledore had worked so hard to have him accused of murder,

"How does me being accused of murder deprive me of my due share?"

Dumbledore chuckled darkly,

"Accused? No… Simply being accused of murder is not sufficient to rob you of your inheritance… But, you performed a mortal sin…"

Harry raised an eyebrow,

"A mortal sin?"

Dumbledore ran his fingers through his beard and his eyes twinkled,

"Yes…A mortal sin… It is a gravely sinful act, which leads to damnation of a person."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and snort. Dumbledore was starting to sound more and more like a bloody priest,

"There's a huge difference in performing a mortal sin and being accused of it."

Dumbledore instantly gripped his chin with his bony fingers,

"I can assure you, my boy, that you have indeed performed a mortal sin and you are now damned for life."

Harry held his piercing blue gaze but refused to acknowledge that Dumbledore was right. What bothered him was how Dumbledore knew that he'd murdered McGonigal. He kept his calm façade in place and kept his lips sealed tight. Dumbledore released his chin and then spoke,

"Your damnation works to my advantage. I am now eligible to claim your inheritance on the grounds that you are morally corrupt and not worthy of it and therefore my organization can make better use of the wealth."

Harry rose to his feet and finally spoke,

"I think we're done here."

Dumbledore rested his hand on his shoulder,

"I assumed you would put up more of a fight."

He laughed coldly,

"You can keep all of my wealth. I'll simply believe that I donated all of it to you."

He pushed Dumbledore's hand off his shoulder and was about to make his way to the door when Dumbledore spoke again,

"You cannot expect me to allow you to leave this office like that?"

Harry ducked his head and tucked his hands into his pockets as he assessed his belongings. He had his lockpick set, his phone and his wallet on him at the moment. He had known that this had all been a set up as soon as Dumbledore had showed up. Fudge had been in cahoots with Dumbledore all along. Harry wondered how much Dumbledore had paid him to do to his dirty work. Well, that was irrelevant now.

A noise from outside forced him to cut his thought process short. He had to come up a plan and he had to come up with it past. The police probably had the place surrounded so he needed a quick and efficient escape plan. Getting arrested wasn't an option because it would mean life imprisonment. No, he simply couldn't afford it. Harry heard the smile in Dumbledore's voice when he spoke,

"I shall be sure to visit you in prison, Harry."

Harry ignored that little comment and stared at the door as he thought hard. The only way out of the office was through the door. There were no windows. He was practically trapped.

One of his options was to take Dumbledore hostage and exit the building but…Dumbledore wasn't some weak old man. He was probably stronger than him and could maim him in the blink of an eye. The only reason he hadn't harmed him so far was because the police was right outside the door and he was probably confident that they would be successful in apprehending him.

Well, he was going to shatter his confidence and prove to Dumbledore that underestimating him had been his biggest mistake. His other option was to feign surrender and then run but that wouldn't be possible if he had several guns aimed right at him.

So, then what was he supposed to do? Time was ticking by and he had to make a decision fast.


	64. Chapter 64

Harry was still struggling to formulate a plan when Dumbledore spoke,

"I can grant you safe passage if you sign some papers for me."

Harry couldn't stop the derisive laugh that escaped his lips. He should have known that there was a reason Dumbledore had come here personally. The old man wouldn't have bothered to show up if he hadn't wanted something from him.

Harry turned back around to face Dumbledore and spoke,

"What papers?"

Dumbledore grinned and his eyes twinkled victoriously as he snapped his fingers and a file appeared in his hand. Harry was very certain that Dumbledore had pulled that little stunt to impress him and fascinate him, but he didn't particularly feel any of those things. Dumbledore stepped closer to him and handed him the file,

"It is stated in these papers that you have no objections, whatsoever as I stake my claim on your parents' estate."

Harry stared at the papers with mock incredulity,

"Why would I do that?"

A cruel smirk twisted Dumbledore's features,

"Surely this price is nothing compared to your freedom…If you do not sign, you shall have to spend the rest of your natural life in prison."

He opened the file and shuffled through the papers quickly. This twisted things up further. He knew one thing for sure though, Dumbledore was not going to give him safe passage even if he did sign the papers.

How could he just sign away everything he had looked forward to his entire life? This inheritance had meant everything to him and now…now he could see that it was slipping from his grasp… Maybe, it already had…

Taking a deep breath, he spoke,

"I want a pen."

Dumbledore shook his head,

"You shall not be needing a pen. Extend your hand."

Harry flexed his fingers but made no move to extend his hand. He didn't trust Dumbledore…He didn't trust him one bit. Dumbledore snapped his fingers,

"Harry…"

Harry shoved his hand in the pockets of his jeans, grabbed his phone and began blinding typing a text before sending it. He really hoped, he had sent it,

"I have no reason to trust you."

Dumbledore tsked,

"Refusal simply will not stand in your benefit. Sign the papers and I guarantee that you will walk out of this building scot free and unmaimed."

No… He didn't trust the man one bit. This monster had molested countless children. He had abused Tom. Harry wouldn't give the man his fever let alone an entire estate that rightfully belonged to him. He ripped out the papers from the file and tore them in halves and then quarters before tossing them at Dumbledore,

"I'll take my chances with the police."

Dumbledore's eyes hardened, and his lips pressed into a thin line,

"As you wish. But, I am certain that you shall beg me to have you freed in less than a month and I shall be waiting for it."

He turned back towards the door and spoke,

"That will never happen."

He smoothed his fingers through his hair and then pushed open the door.

* * *

It wasn't real. It didn't feel like real life, or even like a film…it was like dropping a photo album and scattering pictures everywhere. Running. One of the lightbulbs was flickering. Booting the door open to the underground car park. He didn't know where he was going. He hit a dead end and swore like hell. His blood was pumping with exhilaration. Something inside him was liking this far too much. He started running back and came face to face with a police officer. he security guard's too quick. He shot twice and despite his quick reflexed got hit by both. One clipped his side and other slammed into his chest under his collarbone. It was a split-second before he really registered the impacts and retched from the pain, but by that time he was already falling but not before he manged to pry the gun out of the police man's hand and cocked and fired, cocked and fired, five times in all, calm and deliberate, until the police man was writhing on the concrete floor. The shots echoed and died away, and Harry finally took in the sight of the blood on his hands, a cartoony sort of red he didn't quite believe.

All that, in ten seconds.

Real-time crept back in, and Harry pulled up everything he could recall on getting shot but the pain was making it really bloody difficult to focus. He slams his fist down on the ground and bit his tongue as hard as he could without tearing it off, but none of it worked to distract him from the searing pain of the gunshots, not that he expected it to.

He wanted to pull his phone out, but he couldn't get his hands to cooperate. Besides he wouldn't get any reception down here anyway. He touched his fingers to the hole in his shirt and the pain was like ripples from a brick pelted into a pond and there was bile and blood sharp in the back of his throat. His tongue was hurting and he hoped to god the blood was from that and he wasn't spitting it up and drowning in it. He wished he had some Anadins with him, then he wanted to crack up laughing at his own absurdity, but he was too afraid to laugh in case it made him throw up a glot of blood, and it wasn't funny anyway, so he didn't.

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to close his ears and mind as well. The pain was worse with his eyes closed, when there was nothing else to focus on, and it didn't matter how he writhed around, he couldn't find any position that made it hurt any less.

He really hoped he'd sent that message because death was imminent if he hadn't.

It felt like a lifetime had passed until the sound of rolling tires and headlights swooped down over the dingy grey walls. He opened his eyes and squinted at it only to close them again when he realized that it was a police car.


	65. Chapter 65

he heard the car pull up next to him and just when he thought he was done for, a very familiar voice…no scratch that two very familiar voices forced him to open his eyes,

"Hiya, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and sure enough saw the twins sticking their heads out of the window. Harry forgot how to talk at all. He just looked at them and blinked, wondering if he'd bled too much that he was hallucinating. His eyelids fluttered shut again but he knew that he was going to make it now… He heard the car doors opening and heard the twins' hiss collectively as they no doubt assessed the damage,

"What?"

The twins spoke together,

"You're bleeding like hell."

Harry managed to snigger at that,

"Thanks, Sherlocks."

It was Fred that asked,

"Can you see a bright white light?"

Harry nodded his head imperceptibly and groaned,

"Yeah."

The twins leaned over him and George spoke,

"Okay, listen to me, don't go near it, okay?"

Harry inquired dazedly as blackness lurked at the edges of his vision,

"What?"

The twins spoke together, their voices just barely bordering on hysterical screaming,

"Stay away from the light."

Harry couldn't make sense of what they were saying mainly because his head felt like it was filled with fog,

"What are you talking about?"

The twins cried together,

"That's death, innit? Don't go near it, promise us."

Harry realized what they'd been talking about and spoke,

"I mean I can see the electric lights on the ceiling, you berks"

The twins exclaimed accusingly,

" _You_  berk! You knob, we thought you were dying."

Harry felt slightly better when he spoke,

"You didn't specify what _kind_  of bright light, you just said bright light, you might've been testing my eyesight."

The twins shook their heads in exasperation,

"We ain't fighting with you when you've been shot."

He closed his eyes again and snapped,

"Shut up, then.  _Ow_."

It was a crappy little ineffectual sound, but it was that or scream like a girl and screaming like a girl wasn't how he wanted to go.

The twins lifted him up to haul him into the back seat and if the bleeding had been stopping before, it made up for it now by starting up harder than ever, it seemed. Harry realized that he didn't even have the energy for that held-back girly scream anymore, he just clenched his teeth and heard himself making strange unreal moaning sounds through his nose. One of the twins sat down beside him while the other got in the driver's seat and got the car moving. Blood had never bothered him but he was surely going to suffocate on the thick scent of it in the air, if he didn't pass out first. Fred held something to his lips…a flask… and spoke,

"You need to drink this, Harry."

Fred tipped the flask and Harry grimaced at the bitter flavour that assaulted his mouth. Nevertheless, he swallowed. Everything still seemed so hazy. He needed a distraction…He needed to stay awake,

"Did you get my text?"

That was a stupid question. It was obvious they'd gotten it otherwise they wouldn't be here. So, he asked another on,

"How'd you manage to nick a cop car?"

George spoke, making a wide u-turn in the mostly empty car park and began heading back out the way they'd probably came in,

"I laid down on the road, pretended I was dead, shot him in the face when he got out the car."

Fred spoke proudly.

"I nutted the other one out."

George turned around to grin at him between the seats. They must have wrenched the grill off somehow, or there never had been one, and everything looked weird, his unimpeded view out the windscreen. Lights and trees and telegraph poles as they made it onto the road and away, everything was moving too fast, everything felt like it was spinning.

Fred pressed his palm harder against his shoulder but It still did nothing to stop the bleeding, it just hurt like hell. He had no idea what the plan was now and that bothered him. They needed a plan and they needed it badly. The twins were bickering about where to go next and it was really making his head explode but they apologized when he coughed in a way that had got nothing to do with having to clear his throat and everything to do with reminding them who was in charge, even when he was curled and twisted and cramped on the back seat, streaming blood and pulsing with pain and only clinging on to consciousness by the thinnest fraying thread,

"Call Greyback."

George exchanged a dubious look with his brother in the rear-view mirror and for a moment, Harry thought they weren't going to do it but then Fred fished his phone out of his pocket and pried out his from the pocket of his blood-soaked jeans and then spoke,

"It's not turning on."

Harry cursed under his breath and then recited Greyback's number. Fred held the phone to his ear and he waited for Greyback to pick up. Finally, he did, and Harry couldn't help but grin at how devastated he sounded when he spoke,

"Who the bloody hell is this?"

Harry finally spoke,

"I presume you know all about the fiasco that went down."

Greyback inhaled sharply,

"Harry…"

Harry closed his eyes,

"The one and only."

And then Greyback was bombarding him with questions,

"Where are you? How are you? How the hell did this happen? Are you hurt? Whose phone is this? I'm going to have this call tracked now so stay on the phone."

Harry didn't have the strength to answer all of them and simply spoke,

"Trace me… Answers later."

Greyback sounded like he was on the verge of tears,

"At least tell me you're not as hurt as they're saying on the news."

That caught his attention though,

"What are they saying on the news?"

Greyback was silent for a while and then spoke,

"They said that you've been shot multiples times and are currently on the run."

He nodded his head and ground out as the pain peaked again,

"Twice to be exact."

There was a pause and then Greyback spoke with so much conviction in his voice,

"I'm coming to get you, Harry. You're going to be fine."


	66. Chapter 66

Harry was lying on the bed, deeply unconscious. His skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor due to the amount of blood he'd lost. His dark lashes fanning his colourless cheeks stood in stark contrast to them. His messy curls were spread out on the white pillow and surrounded his head like an ungodly halo. His shirt had been removed and his shoulder and side were heavily bandaged. He'd paid the best doctor in town to tend to Harry's injuries and then paid him some more keep his mouth shut.

His features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased his brow were replaced by the youthful appearance that matched those of others his age. He looked young… peaceful. Wanting nothing more than to curl up into the curve of his body, he pulled the blanket up over his bare chest. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest. It was hard to imagine that this was the same Harry that was so clever…so unimaginably sharp…so cunningly manipulative. In sleep he was angelic, his face as fresh as a dew drop, making gentle snuffling noises as he breathed.

He knew what Harry had been doing…He'd known that Harry had deliberately made every move to endear himself to him from day one till now. He was well aware of his manipulations but he felt no shame in admitting that he'd fallen for them. Nothing had ever fascinated him as much as Harry did. He was a beautiful riddle…a marvellous enigma. Harry was the sweetest melody on his eyes and ears and he had him thoroughly wrapped up in his words…so thoroughly that he could never imagine of breaking out of those bindings.

It was just attraction but it felt so deep, as if this were the start of a song that played on and on, something so soothing to his soul. He was attracted to Harry with the kind of a heady trance that brought a butterfly to nectar. He was just the right blend of wicked and beautiful…smart and coy…He was everything he never knew he'd wanted…needed.

What would he have done if Harry had been shot dead today? He would have surely died. It sounded so irrational…so illogical but it was the truth. When he'd been away in New York, he'd discovered that he couldn't get him out of his mind…every waking minute…every second he slept…whatever he did…Harry was right there inside his head…his voice…his eyes…his smile…his laugh… He'd thought he was going insane and he surely was. It was nothing less than insanity to fall for Harry's manipulations but he couldn't help it…He couldn't stop himself…He didn't want to…

He reached forward and took Harry's hand in his. It felt too cold and he slowly began to warm it up. He understood that Harry would probably never pursue a physical relationship with him willingly and he no longer intended to force him into one. What he felt for him was beyond any physical want or need.

He chuckled deprecatingly as he remembered who he'd been before he'd met Harry… His uncontrollable sexual appetite, all the pets and slaves he'd kept to satiate himself and then tossed away like used tissue papers. Wasn't Harry meant to be one of them? When had the tables turned? How had Harry come to mean so much to him?

Harry's hand felt warmer so he took his other one and began rubbing it as well. He had never been gentle with anyone before…He'd never cared for anyone or experienced kindness and compassion but something about Harry made him want to nurture him. It aroused a side of him he'd never known existed. He knew there was nothing weak about Harry…It was actually quite the contrary…He admired his strength…his perseverance... But, despite all that, he wanted to keep Harry safe from harm…Harry awoke all his protective instincts…He'd been the pack alpha for several years and he had never felt this defensive of anyone...

He was aware of the fact that he was setting himself up for a long, hard fall but a part of him hoped against hope that Harry would somehow…someday, come to reciprocate his feelings but the chances of that happening were almost zero to none. Despite that, he wanted to win him over. He wanted Harry's affection…He wanted to be the recipient of his fondness… He yearned for it.

There was a knock on the door and he spoke,

"Enter."

The door was pushed open and the twins stepped in. He didn't fail to notice the tray laden with flasks filled with colourful liquids. They had played an instrumental role in rescuing Harry and despite his earlier reservations, he couldn't help but feel grateful to them,

"How is he?"

One of the twins placed the tray on the side table while the other went to lean against the wall,

"The doctor believes that his life is out of jeopardy."

The twins nodded together and then the other one asked cautiously,

"Will you take him away?"

He chewed on his lower lip. He'd deliberated that. Somehow, this fitted in nicely with his plans. He could prove that Harry had died due to the bullet wounds…make a false grave…bury a dead body in it and prove that it was Harry's. After that, Harry would be free to start a new life in America as James Evans. He could study…do whatever he wished to…

He could see his plan coming together nicely and grinned as he reached forward and pushed away a stray lock of Harry's hair,

"Currently, he is no condition to travel but yes…I shall be taking him away."


	67. Chapter 67

Half-asleep and fighting up towards consciousness like a drowning man trying to swim for light, he was aware of pain as something foggy and far away… like the  _concept_  of pain, instead of pain itself. That came later, sweating and thrashing with fever. He knew Greyback was there, he could just sense his presence even when he was quiet.

He'd lost all concept of time. Sometimes it felt like day followed night so quickly he'd half-expect to see somebody flicking the light switch on and off, if he could only move his head far enough to look, and sometimes the night just wouldn't go away… and then, one morning, his fever broke as suddenly as a shattering mirror, and he could see and think and focus again. Unfortunately, this meant that he could feel the thudding pain in his shoulder and side as well. He tried to make some sort of comprehensible noise, he wasn't sure whether his mouth still remembered how to talk until it was saying a brittle, croaky,

"Damn…"

Greyback jolted awake, raising his head from where he'd folded his arms on top of the mattress to stare at Harry, and then a slow, hopeful smile crept onto his face,

"You've slept so much."

He didn't want to ask anything so clichéd as 'where am I?' but he had to,

"Where am I?"

Greyback spoke,

"Silas's house."

Greyback sat up a bit and dragged his chair closer to the bed. He hesitated for a second with his hand near Harry's face before he went for it and touched his cheek gently,

"Are you feeling alright?"

Harry chuckled humorlessly,

"Are you kidding? I feel like I died six weeks ago but I'm too stubborn to actually stop breathing."

Greyback laughed a bit at that, but he sounded like he was going to cry,

"Yes, you look a right bloody state."

It wasn't not long before he was wishing himself unconscious again. The stitches itched, and it was making him crazy. The itch was worse than the pain sometimes. He bit his tongue and lips raw trying to control himself, trying not to scratch. Greyback tried to lend him a pair of woolly mittens to wear like a baby so he wouldn't have a go at himself in his sleep, but he point-blank refused. He thought he could handle it, he thought it was just a matter of concentration and willpower and as long as he talked himself up to it there was  _nothing_  he couldn't deal with, but he'd never been tested like this and he couldn't help himself. He didn't even realize he was doing it sometimes, until there was blood smeared under his fingernails and the pain suddenly broke its localized little barriers and hammered straight into his brain.

"You'll infect it again,"

Greyback said quietly. He seemed to have taken on the job of nursemaid, which confounded Harry sometimes. Greyback ran an international drug cartel. How could he even afford to spare so much time for him.

"I'm going  _out of my mind_!"

Harry yelled at him. The house was still, Silas and his wife must be out, so he could shout as much as he wanted,

"Get me something, I don't care, anything, get me  _anything_ , I can't stand it."

Greyback didn't speak for a while, just carried on cleaning and redressing the ragged sticky cut at the side of his stomach. Harry wondered why Greyback changed his dressings and cleaned his wounds personally. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen any servants milling around the place and he imagined it had something to do with Greyback not trusting them to keep their mouths shut. Finally, Greyback inquired flatly,

"Anadin? Or ibuprofen?"

Harry gritted his teeth. At this point, he didn't care about rationality, he just needed the pain to go away so he could think again.

"You know that's not what I mean."

The pain in his shoulder was like being battered with a sledgehammer. He knew he'd had a lucky escape, he  _knew_  that, he knew if the bullet had hit just a fraction away from where it did it would have ripped right through his lung or his heart or his jugular or would have splintered his bones beyond repair instead of just leaving him trussed up here...his body felt like it was stuck full of long steel pins like a bloody shish kebab – but knowing it didn't help, it didn't make him feel any better or any more charitable towards Greyback who was trying to help. He was tired and weak and angry and frustrated and  _bored_  and in constant pain and if the offer of Anadin was a joke then it was in bloody poor taste.

* * *

He was listening to some indie rock on his iPod a week later, when Greyback walks into the room. He felt helpless and pathetic, stuck here in bed trying not to blubber from the pain. He couldn't even rebel properly and make things difficult.

Greyback placed a tray on the side table and then touched his forehead. His hand felt cold against his skin,

"Do you feel hungry?"

Harry pretended he couldn't hear and knew that Greyback knew he could. He sighed unhappily,

"Harry, you need to eat."

Greyback nicked an earbud to have a listen, and screwed his face up like he'd been poisoned,

"What in the blood hell is this?"

Harry snapped,

"Music."

A sly grin curved Greyback's lips,

"Are you sure?"

He ground out,

"Get out."

Greyback shrugged,

"I will not leave until you eat something."

Harry closed his eyes,

"I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."

There was no way of getting comfortable, nothing helped. He gritted his teeth when Greyback sat on the bed, trying to breathe and control himself through the jolting of the mattress.

"Do you need the bandages to be changed yet, or are they okay?"

Harry sighed irately,

"They're fine, leave me alone."

Greyback inquired,

"You haven't been picking at them?"

Harry snapped,

"I _said_  it's fine!"

He was sweating again. He could feel his heartbeat more in his shoulder than in his actual heart, bang-bang-bang, maddening and agonizing.

"No, it is not fine,"

Greyback muttered, but he didn't push it. He just brushed Harry's hair off his forehead and puts his cool hand there again like he was trying to be soothing, but Harry felt more restless than ever. He yanked his iPod away after a minute and threw it viciously down the bed so it skimmed off the edge and landed with a light thud on the carpet. It wasn't enough. He wanted to break something, or hit somebody, but now Greyback was moving his fingers down Harry's arm and he just couldn't find the energy to pull away,

"Don't touch me."

Of course, Greyback paid his words no notice,

"What were you doing in that building with Dumbledore?"

Harry knew Greyback would ask him that question sooner or later,

"I wasn't doing anything there with Dumbledore. It was a coincidence."

It sounded lame even to himself, and Greyback smiled a bit but he didn't look amused, just kind of sad.

"Lies"

He said gently,

"And I will tell you how I  _know_  it's a lie. I did a bit of digging and I came to know about the estate that you were meant to inherit upon coming of age. I can understand your reluctance to leave this town before your eighteenth birthday now."

Harry didn't like being reminded of his failure again,

"Leave me alone."

How could he be  _this restless_  and  _this tired_  at the same time?

"No. I will not leave you alone."

Harry knew Dumbledore probably had found a way to make do without his signatures on those papers. That old bastard was probably enjoying all his wealth right this very moment. Maybe something showed on his face, because Greyback bent his head to kiss his wrist, tickling Harry's clammy skin with his hair and his soft lips,

"I can file a law suit…"

Harry closed his eyes,

"It was a bloody magical will…I doubt a law suit can help…"

He wanted to bust out crying. He hated,  _hated_ , not being in control. It was even worse than the pain, worse than the itching,

"I hate this."

Now Greyback looked like he was about to cry too,

"I have never been scared but I was bloody terrified for you."

Harry bit out,

"What the hell for?"

Greyback ducked his head,

"I don't know. Everything. You never tell me anything. Why can't you trust me?"

Harry glared at him,

"I'm not willing to address your trust issues right now."

Greyback growled,

"You will have to."

Harry decided that diverting his attention was the best possible solution,

"What's that?"

Greyback looked down at the tray he'd set down on the side table and spoke,

"Soup. Are you hungry now?"

Harry spoke dryly,

"Famished."

"Alright."

Greyback dragged the chair close to the pillow end of the bed, and helped Harry sit up a bit with the cup,

"What's going on out there?"

Greyback shrugged, lopsided with only one shoulder,

"The police has terminated their search for you."

Now that was interesting. He didn't really feel like eating the soup, so he just warmed his hands on the cup and breathes in the steam,

"Why did they terminate the search?"

He had a nagging suspicion Greyback had done something awfully wrong. Greyback said after a minute, quiet,

"Harry Potter is dead now…He died two weeks ago due to multiple gunshot wounds and his body was recovered from the forest on the outskirts of town where he was attempting to hide from the police."

Harry stared at him with his mouth agape and when his brain caught up with Greyback's words, he tossed the cup at the wall and shouted,

"HOW COULD YOU?"


	68. Chapter 68

He was standing in front of the mirror and the person staring back at him wasn't him. His once raven black hair was now a platinum blonde and a little too short for his liking. He was wearing contacts that changed the colour of his eyes from emerald to an icy blue and eliminated his constant dependence on his glasses. Greyback's makeup artist had done something to his face… It looked softer now…his cheekbones…his nose…his chin… his jaw… The guy had taken the best features of his face and changed them…erased them. He hated it. He hated everything about this new look.

Once again, he was forced to wonder why he was even going through with this. Greyback had given him all the details of his plan three weeks ago and he'd shouted, protested…practically thrown a full blown temper tantrum but once he'd started calming down, he'd seen that Greyback had actually been making sense and the move he'd made was bloody brilliant. He hadn't said that to his face but he saw the wisdom in Greyback's actions and appreciated his quick thinking. If Greyback hadn't done what he'd done, when he'd done it, he would still be wanted and he would have either wound up in jail or hell.

He'd made a full recovery now. His wounds ached sometimes but it was negligible and they did nothing to hinder his movements. He suspected the potions, the twins had been dutifully feeding him had something to do with it because there was no way he could have regained movement this fast without proper physiotherapy sessions.

The door opened, and Harry adjusted the collar of his black silk button up. He regarded Greyback's reflection in the mirror coldly,

"What are you gawking at?"

Greyback grinned and licked his lips as he gave him an appraising onceover,

"Gorgeous…Utterly gorgeous."

Harry ran his fingers through his infuriatingly short hair and then grabbed his black leather jacket from the bed before pulling it on and glaring at Greyback. He felt like he was in some stranger's skin and it was seriously messing with his head,

"This is all your fault…I don't even recognize myself…"

Greyback stepped closer to him and ran his finger down the front of his leather jacket,

"I recognize you. That should be sufficient for you."

Harry held Greyback's gaze and bit back the poison he wanted to spew. No…Ruining things with Greyback was out of the question. He pushed his hand away and finally spoke,

"When are we leaving?"

Greyback snapped his fingers and Silas walked into the room holding a file. Harry knew what it was, and the knowledge only served to saturate the venom currently boiling in his blood. Greyback hadn't nursed him back to health because he cared about him. He'd only done it because he still wanted him to be his precious sex slave.

Greyback took the file from Andrew's hand and spoke,

"Did you think about the clauses you want to add to the contract?"

He hadn't thought about them…not properly… He needed more time to plan this through. He wasn't ready for this. But he knew he was out of time. There was no other way out. He had to sign that contract today.

Harry extended his hand and Greyback handed him the file. He opened it and read through the clauses. He was a bit surprised to find that the clauses had been modified. He was given the right to pursue higher studies in any college or university of his choice. The only rule was that he was always meant to return to Greyback during his holidays and he was not allowed to sleep with anyone or seek sexual gratification with anyone other than Greyback. Most of them were just clauses of non-disclosure. He was not allowed to divulge the details of Greyback's lifestyle or business legal or otherwise to anyone. He didn't feel the need to add any more clauses. The contract was fine as it was. He was happy with it,

"Pen."

Greyback seemed a bit incredulous,

"Are you sure you don't want any more clauses added?"

Harry nodded silently and Greyback handed him a sleek golden pen. He drew in a silent deep breath. This was it. He was chaining himself to Greyback for two years. No matter, how long the chain was or the extent of the leeway Greyback was giving him…he would still be chained.

He signed on the line underneath every page that was meant for his signatures and when he was done, he handed the file and the pen back to Greyback silently. Greyback pushed the file in Silas's hand and signalled him to leave. When Silas was gone, Greyback pulled him into an unexpected tight embrace,

"You're officially mine now, Harry."

Harry stood stock still and stared at the opposite wall as he silently gnashed his teeth. He was no one's. He belonged to no one. He would rather die than be labelled as someone's possession. Greyback pulled away from him and Harry took a step back,

"I'm yours for exactly seven hundred and thirty days. You'd better start counting, sweetheart."

Greyback smirked and shook his head dismissively,

"Seven hundred and thirty days are more than enough for me."

Harry turned away from Greyback and faced his reflection in the mirror again,

"I need a moment alone. I'll be down in a second."

Greyback hesitated before walking out of the room and Harry grabbed the nearest thing he could grab and tossed it at the mirror…shattering it…He didn't even want to look at himself. He wreaked havoc on the room. Ripped the bedding, broke the lamps and every other trinket he could get his hands on and upended the side tables. Only then did he find some semblance of calm and felt stable enough to go through with this. He straightened out his hair in the mirror, corrected his clothing and walked over the ruckus to exit the room.

Greyback was waiting for him in the car and he got in beside him. The drive was relatively peaceful until the car passed through the block where Riddle Manor was located, and Harry couldn't resist it. He spoke,

"Stop."

The car came to a screeching halt and he exited it before Greyback could ask him where he was going or stop him. He ran to the end of the block and straight into the Manor. His heart was beating out of his chest as he hurried down the steps and into the basement. The door that led to the crypt was slightly ajar and Harry slowed down.

He stepped into the crypt and made his way to the coffin. Tom was exactly how he remembered it and Harry just stared at him for a minute. He couldn't help it as tears welled into his eyes. He never cried. He was never supposed to cry. Why was he crying now?

Raw pain clawed at his chest as he stared at Tom's quaint features. He'd failed him. He'd utterly failed Tom and himself. He couldn't get his inheritance. He couldn't wake Tom up and now he was leaving here forever.

Saying goodbye felt like the right thing to do. It felt like the proper thing to do. He bit his lower lip to stop the sob that threatened to escape until he tasted blood. He wouldn't let Tom hear him cry. He just wouldn't. He raised his hand and touched Tom's inky black hair,

"I'm sorry…"

The words felt so foreign on his tongue. He'd never apologized to anyone…not earnestly. He'd always done it when he'd seen that he would gain something from it. Today, he had nothing to gain. He'd never felt so defeated in his entire existence. He traced Tom's cheekbone with his finger. He knew it was the last time he was seeing him or touching him. He could just feel it in his bones. His heart felt ready enough to explode as he traced Tom's lips. Before he knew it, he was leaning over him and pressed his lips very chastely against Tom's mouth.

A frown spread across Harry's forehead as he straightened up. Against all logic, he was almost sure he'd felt Tom's tongue brush against the cut on his lower lip as he'd kissed him. It wasn't real though. He'd definitely imagined it. Greyback's distant voice reached him from above,

"HARRY! ARE YOU HERE?"

Harry looked down at Tom one last time. Tom's lips were smeared with his blood. Harry raised his hand and ran his thumb over his lower lip as he spoke,

"I'm so sorry, Tom. I wish I could have saved you…"

And with that he hurried out of the crypt and closed the door on his way out. He didn't want anyone to find Tom. It was wrongfully possessive but he didn't care. He found Greyback on the first floor and dragged him out of the Manor while he ignored all his questions,

"What were you doing here? What happened? What is this place?"

Once they were back in the car and on their way to the airport. Greyback traced his finger over his lower lip and spoke,

"What happened, Harry?"

Harry shook his head,

"Nothing. Just wanted to get some things out of the way before I started my new life with you."

It seemed like it placated Greyback because he smiled softly and patted him on the cheek,

"Yes, a brand-new life."


	69. Chapter 69

 

_**Six Years Later** _

He tested his bonds and mentally calculated how much time it would take for him to undo them…Thirty seconds tops…

He leaned back in the straight-backed chair, he was bound to and stared up at the grey ceiling of the basement, he was locked in. Getting out was the least of his concerns. In fact, it wasn't a concern at all. He'd worked so hard to get here. He'd been tracking this gang of child traffickers down for the past three months and now was the time to reap his reward. He'd been working undercover as a lowly member of the gang and then worked his way up to extract as much information as he could before finally reaching this place. Of course, being found out and brought here had always been his endgame and it was finally here. The house was extremely silent, but he knew…he knew that the children were locked up the rooms on the second floor.

He licked his lips as he looked forward to butchering all the people who were behind this entire trafficking operation. He needed to see blood…well…shed it every once in a while, to soothe his inner psychopath and he usually preferred that the blood belonged to the vermin who invaded this earth and made little children miserable. Of course, that was a tad bit hypocritical of him since there so many other types of vermin and he was probably one of them, but he wasn't concerned with them.

His job didn't allow him the satisfaction of sating his desires as often as he desired but he loved his job. He'd graduated with a degree in Criminal Justice and started working in the Baltimore Police Department. It had taken him three years to qualify for becoming a detective. Initially, he'd been posted in the operations squad of the homicide section and the boredom had nearly driven him to resigning but he'd endured it until he'd been moved to child abuse unit of the special investigations section and then it was like he'd landed his dream job. Everything had been a breeze after that. This was his seventh case and possibly the biggest and the most important one in his career.

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the wooden arms of the chairs, his wrists were bound to when he heard the door on top of the stairs open with a rusty creak. The sound of several footsteps followed and then a raspy voice spoke,

"He's still out."

Another guy with a slightly heavier voice spoke,

"The little bastard's probably just pretending."

A hard blow to his stomach forced his eyes open and he stared at the man who'd dealt it. He had a rough face, a scar covered his left cheek and his stony grey eyes glinted with malicious intent. He went through his notes in his head and pulled up his name…Rowland… He ran his gaze around the basement and took in the other three guys…Devin, Gary, Carter and Jack. The five people who headed the entire operation…The five people who'd probably ruined thousands of children's lives and made millions off them. That was something that just couldn't go unpunished. Jack, who fashioned himself to be quite the leader spoke up,

"Detective Evans, it's so nice to finally have you with us."

He kept his face blank of all expressions and spoke nonchalantly,

"I can't say I'm pleased you see you all."

Rowland was about to hit him again when Devin spoke up,

"Save that later, Rowland. We need him coherent enough for his conversation."

Harry repressed a laugh. Oh, that was a huge mistake. The last thing they needed was for him to coherent. Carter stepped closer to him and gripped his chin tight,

"He's too pretty to be a detective though. Are you sure he really is one?"

Jack pulled out a page from the inside pocket of his jacket and began reading the details of his career aloud. Harry couldn't help but snicker when he was done and spoke up,

"I usually don't like it when people talk about my career, but you missed one achievement."

Jack raised an eyebrow and inquired,

"And what might that be?"

Harry grinned and finished breaking out of his bonds,

"I singlehandedly brought down the biggest network of child traffickers in the state of Maryland."

He rose to his feet and cracked his knuckles. Rowland let out a derisive laugh,

"And how can you possibly fight all of us. There's only one of you and five of us."

Harry chuckled darkly,

"I rather like those odds. They'll look great on paper when I'm done with you."

* * *

An hour later, he was unbuttoning his shirt and wiping the blood from his face with it as he stepped over the dead bodies and made his way upstairs. He tucked his beloved pocket knife into the pocket of his jeans and mounted the steps to the second floor as he whistled the tune to his favorite song. There were three rooms and Harry had no doubt that all of them contained children. He opened the first one and sure enough found eight children huddled up together in the corner of the room. Their lives were ruined. Harry knew that by the look in their eyes. They would never be able to get over this but he was hopeful that with a little care and proper counselling, they might be saved. Harry cleared his throat and spoke up as softly as he possibly could,

"I'm a detective in the Boston Police Department. You're safe now. I'm here to take you away."

It took him a few minutes to gain the children's trust but he got it nonetheless. He prided himself on his ability to make people trust him. It was probably one of the reasons he was so good at what he did. He freed the children from the other two rooms and led them all downstairs to the ground floor before contacting his chief and giving him a general description of the scenario along with his location.

While he waited for the cavalry to show up, he made sure to soothe the children and made a general assessment of his injuries. They were all flesh wounds... Nothing serious... He'd inflicted them upon himself to make the murders seem like they'd been in self defence. He knew the story he was going to weave wasn't going to be very plausible but he'd saved twenty six children from a life of sexual slavery so that would count for something. On top of everything, he felt relatively calm. The blood he'd shed tonight had taken him off the edge he'd been dangling on for days now. So all's well that ends well.


	70. Chapter 70

 

 

 

Harry was laying back on the couch in the living room of his row house in Baltimore and watching the news when his work phone went off. A cursory glance at the screen told him that it was the chief and he took the call,

"Evans."

The chief sounded slightly stressed and Harry immediately knew what this call was all about,

"How are you now, Son?"

Harry had half a mind to tell him to skip the niceties and get to the real reason why he'd called but he still indulged him,

"I'm fine now, Sir. The injuries are healing up nicely."

For a moment, there was silence and then he spoke,

"Don't take this the wrong way, Son. The department highly appreciates the work you've done. Bringing that gang of child traffickers down is a huge achievement and you will be rewarded for it."

Harry ran his hand over his face in exasperation but kept his tone polite,

"I sense a but there somewhere, Sir."

The chief laughed nervously,

"Yes…You're right. The higher ups have decided to send you on a three months leave of absence owing to the unusual circumstances in which your last case ended."

Harry bit back the bout of derisive laughter that threatened to escape his lips and instead spoke,

"I understand, Sir."

He ignored the rest of the conversation and just spoke "Yes, Sir." and "Fine, Sir" at all the appropriate times while he picked up his other phone and started booking tickets for himself. It wasn't the first time he'd been sent on a leave of absence but this one was something he hadn't planned for, but it was a pleasant and welcome surprise. He'd been itching for a change of scenery for a while now and this was just perfect. It suited his needs very well.

He turned off the TV as soon as the chief stopped droning on the phone and rushed upstairs to pack for his trip. He wouldn't be needing much so he packed a small suitcase with just the essentials and then proceeded to take a shower and get himself ready for the trip.

He emerged from the bathroom an hour later and made his way to the vanity. He still had two hours till his first flight, so he had plenty of time to change his look. He ran his fingers through his long raven black hair. It had taken him ages to get them back to the way he liked them so changing them wasn't an option. He opened his drawer and browsed through the vast collection of contacts. He finally settled on a discreet light brown and set them apart before removing the ice blue ones he always wore and then replaced them with the brown ones. He looked different already, but it wasn't quite enough. He got his makeup kit out and got to work.

Thirty minutes later, he could barely recognize himself and winked at his reflection. The next step was his wardrobe. He needed to wear something to blend in with the crowd so he picked out a black loose fitted T-shirt and coupled that with a pair of baggy jeans, a faded grey hoodie and worn out sneakers. He wrinkled his nose as he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked average and that was his least favorite look.

He looked at the clock and shook his head. He still had half an hour later. He retrieved his box that contained everything on it from the secret compartment behind his vanity mirror and went through the contents.

There was a stack of notebooks that he'd used to make all the entries in and then there was the stack of photographs. There were three hundred and thirteen photographs in that stack and that number increased by one every week. Every single one of those photographs had been taken at a different location. Those locations varied from London to Whittier in Alaska.

He pulled out the stack and ran his thumb over it. They weren't photographs. They were love letters and Harry held every single one of them very dear to his heart. He picked up the top most one and stared at it.

The picture was of a note taped to a gravestone written in blood.

" _My Dear Prince Charming,_

_Return to me. Return to the place where you resurrected me. I yearn to see you. Come and be mine. I promise to treasure you forever."_

Every picture held a similar message. The wording changed but the idea was the same. Tom wanted him to return. Tom was looking for him. Tom was travelling around the world searching for him but that wasn't the thing that made him happy. What made him happy was that he successfully managed to resurrect him. Tom was alive and well. Tom was awake and free. But Tom wasn't the only one searching for him. He'd been searching for him too but so far; the man was a ghost… a vampire… and tracking him down was impossible.

He'd come across the first note three months after he'd left Britain. He'd found it when he'd been studying a case on the internet. A little investigation had helped him unravel all the notes Tom had left for him after he'd left. After that Harry had developed an algorithm that searched through the case files of every investigative agency around the world and generated the results whenever a case matched Tom's MO. Tom had a very special modus operandi. All his victims were family oriented. He drained them dry and then left these notes when their relatives buried them. The words Prince Charming were a constant addition in all the notes, so it didn't take him a lot of work to narrow down the results.

He replaced the photograph back over the stack and sighed softly. Just the fact that Tom was alive and well was enough to keep him happy and satisfied. He closed the box and replaced it in the secret compartment. He had all of this data backed up on his private server. He only kept the physical files around because he liked looking at them. They made him feel prized and cherished. Well, Tom wasn't the only one that prized and cherished him but still…It warmed his heart to see all these little tokens of love.

Finally, he got up to his feet, grabbed his laptop bag and the small suitcase he'd packed and made his way downstairs. He looked around the house and sighed softly. Buying this place had cost him a small fortune but it wasn't home. It never felt like home. It was just a place, he had to keep to maintain his James Evans persona. He hated all his neighbours. Absolutely loathed socializing with them. He hated their children and their pets. He hated everything about the perfect…ordinary… neighborhood.

He couldn't help but grin when he thought about the three months he had ahead of him. He was definitely going to make the most of them.


	71. Chapter 71

Harry was half asleep by the time, the cab came to a halt. He haphazardly removed a few bills from his wallet before handing them to the driver. His luggage wasn't that heavy, but he was tired of hauling it around. The door man snapped to attention at the sight of him and spoke,

"Mr. Evans…"

Harry was glad to see that he hadn't been changed. He stared pointedly at his suitcase and laptop bag and spoke,

"Take care of them."

The door man reached forward and took them quickly,

"Yes, Sir."

He walked past him straight towards the elevators and was once again, greeted with shock by the elevator operator,

"Mr. Evans… You're back…"

Harry rolled his eyes. This was getting tiring,

"Do you have any objections to that?"

The man shook his head quickly and waved him into the elevator,

"No, Sir."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the elevator wall, as it took him to his destination. Finally, when the elevator came to a halt, he stepped outside and strolled straight towards the only office on the floor.

He pushed open the door and couldn't help but grin at the sight that greeted him. Fenrir's chair was facing away from the door and he was obviously having a very heated conversation with someone on the phone. Andrew who was seated on the other end of the table, looked up from his laptop screen and smiled at the sight of him. Harry put a finger to his lips in a universal gesture of "Be Quiet" and stealthily made his way towards Fenrir.

In a flash, he was seated in Fenrir's lap and had his arms wrapped around his neck. The look of pure confusion on Fenrir's face was definitely worth it and then the smile that curved his lips as he realized what was happening and who was in his lap, brought a billion-door smile to his lips. He raised his hand and brushed his fingers over Greyback's cheekbone and inquired wordlessly about who was on the phone. Fenrir shook his head to indicate that no one important but Harry took the phone from him anyway. Andrew spoke up,

"It's the Brazilian Pack."

Harry grinned and spoke,

"Luiz, how are you?"

Luiz's voice was dripping with uncertainty when he spoke,

"Mr. J?"

Harry laughed softly and stroked Fenrir's cheek,

"The one and only."

He made himself comfortable in Greyback's lap and switched to his business tone,

"So how much merch are you looking to unload?"

He wordlessly signalled Andrew to pass him the laptop and began tapping away at it. He'd dealt with the Brazilians before, so he knew all about their trade. Luiz rattled off the list and Harry ran a search for the same guns, Fenrir was negotiating to buy from them. Fenrir was more impulsive when it came to these decisions and that was where they differed. He switched to his businessman mode and went through his search results. He absolutely had to know the source of the products. If the guns the Brazilians were unloading were hot, he was definitely passing.

Fenrir grumbled something about too much research and Harry traced his finger over his lips to shut him up. Luiz spoke,

"I've got three crates on their way to a loading dock in Jersey. Fifty to a crate."

They'd done business with Luiz twice before and so far, they hadn't had any problems. Still, it paid not to sleep on those bloody Brazilians. They could be treacherous,

"I don't need all that merch. Our buyers are mostly filled up and those who need don't want it all. It does me no good to lay out the money for the whole thing then have no way to move it fast."

Here he'd gauge Luiz's desperation, if the other man pushed too hard or too soft, Harry would walk away from the negotiating table. Luiz spoke softly,

"These are cream of the crop. Straight from the manufacturer. You know their worth and I think you can knock down the three crates in no time with your usual sales pitch, Mr. J."

Ah, flattery,

"You've been on the receiving end of my sales pitch?"

He wouldn't doubt it. He did his sales pitches over the phone mostly, conferencing with buyers all over the world. Luiz admitted,

"I have."

Harry tsked,

"Then you must know that flattery doesn't do it for me. Your employer has someone inside the manufacturing plant?"

Luiz spoke,

"Maybe."

That would be a yes,

"Then you'd get the goods for at worst half off, yet you're selling them to me at cost."

Either Luiz had forgotten who he was talking to or he had deliberately let the bit about the manufacturer slip. The latter no doubt, but that would put Fenrir and him…the buyers…in a better position than the seller. _Why would that be?_ Luiz reasoned,

"Your contracts with us have been quite profitable for both sides. We tend to deal more with people who make us money."

No kidding,

"You're doing a whole lot of talking, but you're not saying anything. You try messing with me and I have to wonder how many times have you done so and when do I get my share of the pleasure?"

An edge crept into Luiz's voice,

"What do you want?"

Bulls eye. Harry smirked,

"I want the three crates for a third of your asking price and all future transactions to follow suit."

Low voices carried through the phone as Luiz, no doubt, conferred with his boss. Harry stretched his legs out. He legs felt stiff from all those flights. Fenrir ran his hand over his legs and Harry relaxed. With the phone held to his ear by his shoulder, Harry tapped away on his laptop and sent out a call to all their buyers that they were coming into more stock. Quick turnovers were always the best in his line of work. Luiz came back on the line,

"Okay, that's doable. Here's what you'll need."

Harry grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the pertinent information for his shipment and contact in Jersey with a smug smile. Luiz spoke,

"Final price will be five hundred thousand and…"

Harry pushed the paper away and Andrew picked it up,

"Hold on there, Luiz. I've got one more condition."

Fenrir looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Harry just grinned at him,

"What now?"

Damn, Luiz sounded as if he stood at the edge of his jumping-off point and Harry loved that,

"I want to be the only one who sells your guns on the East Coast. Cut out the buyers in Philly and Miami and we're in business."

Fenrir and Andrew's mouths dropped open. Silence greeted his words on the phone. He was aiming ambitious, but the profits would be worth it, and he had no doubt Luiz's boss would come to the same conclusion. Luiz challenged,

"And if we say no?"

Harry shrugged and spoke,

"Then you'd lose a very profitable customer and any sales from New York, which I know makes up a third of your overall sales of guns…plus the three crates in Jersey."

Luiz spoke slowly, carefully,

"That's a very expensive threat, Mr. J. Can you back it up?"

"My reputation precedes me. You know I can, and I will. Hell, I could even throw my lot in with the Russians and give you guys a run for your money."

That particular threat should light a fire under Luiz's boss. The Brazilians and Russians had been in stiff competition for the US gun trade for years. Luiz sighed.

"I'll have to discuss it with my boss."

"You have five seconds."

It didn't pay to act soft and malleable with these people. He had to make it understood how serious he was and what steps he'd be willing to take to ensure his goal. Luiz finally spoke,

"Done."

The one word rang with a tangible finality. A wide smile broke out on his face and he flashed Andrew and Fenrir a thumbs-up. They both grinned,

"Pleasure doing business with you, Luiz. You should stop by Brooklyn sometime, I'd treat you to a Corona."

Luiz grunted,

"With all that money you pulled out of us today, better make it something far more potent…and expensive."

Harry chuckled as Andrew's phone went off,

"Done."

Luiz spoke,

"We'll talk again, Mr. J."

Harry nodded,

"I look forward to it."

He hung up and laced his fingers behind his head. Fenrir reached forward and brushed the hair away from his forehead gently,

"You are truly amazing."

Harry laughed and flashed him a cocky grin,

"Tell me something I don't know."

Fenrir's eyes were brimming with adoration. Harry rose to his feet and watched the way Fenrir eyed him,

"Not a word on how I look. Do you have any idea how many flights I had to change to get here? And these disguises will be the death of me someday."

Fenrir leaned back in his seat,

"I don't understand why you insist on keeping that worthless job and living in that miserable town when you have so much wealth at your disposal."

Harry shook his head,

"I'm not having this conversation with you again. I love that job. It's keeps my mind stimulated. Besides, when has my job had any effect on your business? I keep up with all the updates, negotiate the deals whenever you need me to and make you a hell of a lot of money."

Fenrir frowned and then corrected him,

"Our business…And, no, it hasn't… But, it's not about the business or the money. I don't enjoy having you out of my sights and knowing that you risk your life every day."

Harry sat down on the table and spoke,

"I don't risk my life. You of all people should know that no one is capable of hurting me."

Fenrir reached forward and cupped his cheek,

"I know, Harry. But…"

Harry took his hand in his and stroked the calloused palm. Fenrir went silent. It had taken him a year to trust Fenrir completely and irrevocably. The man was the only person he trusted and cared about in the entire world. Well…he cared about Tom…But that was another case.

There was nothing sexual about his relationship with Fenrir. They'd only attempted to have sex once and Fenrir had figured out that he was asexual, so he had never asked that of him again. Sometimes, Harry felt guilty for not being able to give Fenrir what he desired the most, so he compensated for that by handpicking Fenrir's toys and Fenrir was more than happy with that arrangement.

Fenrir finally spoke up,

"You could, at the very least, use the private jet."

Harry sighed,

"That would have ruined my surprise."

Fenrir laughed and rose to his feet. Harry got up from the desk too and Fenrir pulled him into a tight embrace. Harry allowed himself to relax in his embrace. Fenrir was the only person who cared about him without any personal gain or hidden agenda,

"I missed you, Harry."

Harry snorted,

"I've only been away for six months and we talked on the phone a week ago."

Fenrir ran his hands over his back,

"Six months is a long time and talking to you on the phone isn't the same as having you in my arms."

Harry couldn't help but wince when Fenrir touched a particularly tender wound and Fenrir pulled away,

"What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head,

"Nothing."

Fenrir pulled his shirt up anyway and growled,

"Harry…What did you do?"

Harry smiled sheepishly,

"Had to make the murders look like self-defense so…"

Fenrir's brow was furrowed with concern, so Harry added,

"They're only flesh wounds and they're healing up… They didn't do me any good though. I've been sent on three months leave of absence."

Fenrir still looked worried, but he smiled,

"Three months… Now that is definitely good news."


	72. Chapter 72

He watched Harry while he worked on the laptop. He'd taken out the contacts and replaced them with his glasses and washed off the makeup. There was something mesmerizing about Harry when he was focused. It didn't matter what he was doing…. whether he was working on the accounts or negotiating a deal or taking someone's life… He always looked breathtakingly beautiful.

His insides burned with jealousy when he imagined that his colleagues at the Baltimore Police Department probably watched him work. It was impossible for Harry not to have any admirers. He had a way of making people utterly infatuated with him. He'd given up his heart to him years ago and he didn't want it back even though he knew perfectly well that Harry wasn't capable of reciprocating.

It had come as a shock to him when he'd discovered that Harry was asexual, but it had done nothing to lessen his desire and want. If anything, it had only caused him to grow more enamoured with him. With time, Harry had learnt to trust him and he valued that above his life. Harry had his own special way of caring for him. He handpicked his pets, his bodyguards and every single member of his security detail. He kept track of his movements personally and ensured that he was always well protected.

Harry never trusted anyone with their accounts. He trusted Andrew to some extent but most of the time, he managed them himself and supervised all transactions. Sometimes, Harry's overcautiousness irritated him, but it paid off. His profits had gone through the roof ever since Harry had become an active participant in all his business activities.

When Harry had demanded that he wanted to study criminal justice, he had agreed immediately. At that time, he'd imagined that Harry would get the degree and then forget about it just like he did with anything that lost his interest. If he'd known that Harry would make a career out of it, he would have suggested something different. But Harry was Harry…When he wanted something, he got it any way he could.

That was another aspect that he adored about him. Harry was downright vicious when it came to getting something he wanted. He kept at it until he had it in his hands and when he got bored with it, he discarded it like it had never mattered. He still remembered how happy Harry had been at his graduation. It was the first time, he'd seen him truly happy and it had been utterly mesmerizing. But, what had brought him to tears…happy tears… was when Harry had dedicated his Outstanding Student Award to him. He didn't know how significant that moment was to Harry, but it had truly been the best moment of his life,

"You've got tears in your eyes."

He wiped at his eyes and realized that they were indeed moist,

"What were you thinking about?"

Harry had closed the laptop and was regarding him expectantly. He didn't know what to tell Harry, so he remained silent. Harry shook his head and sighed while he rose to his feet and made his way across the desk to him,

"You can tell me anything, Fen."

Harry rested his hands on his shoulders and the pure concern in Harry's eyes just made him bite his tongue lest he say what he truly wanted to say,

_I love you_

Harry released his shoulders and spoke,

"Well, if its something you can't share with me then just say so. But you should know that I will find out what it is eventually, so you might as well spit it out now and save me the trouble."

He shook his head and pulled up his best smirk,

"No, Harry. It's nothing important."

Harry leaned over and held his chin,

"Nothing important… I might have believed that if I hadn't seen those tears in your eyes. Come on…Tell me what's bothering you…"

He shook his head and rose to his feet,

"Nothing, Harry. It's nothing."

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow and shrugged,

"Fine, have it your way, Fen."

He brushed is knuckles against Harry's cheek and spoke,

"I'm telling you…"

Harry pushed his hand away and gritted out,

"I swear if you say that it's nothing one more time, I'll kill someone."

He went silent and watched the torrent of emotions in Harry's eyes. Anger, frustration, curiosity, loyalty and concern but there was none of the emotion, he truly wanted to see in those bright emerald orbs. Love…There was no love…

"Tell me what the matter is, or I swear one of your employees is kissing their life goodbye."

He held Harry by his upper arms and Harry instantly wrapped them around him,

"I don't like tears in your eyes. I don't like seeing you anything but happy."

It would have been so easy if Harry had uttered those words in love, but he hadn't. Harry wasn't capable of feeling it. His mind wasn't wired that way. Harry only felt simple emotions. Complex feelings and sentiments eluded him. He knew Harry was remarkably intelligent and very very sharp but this was one department he lacked in and he had no intentions of ever making him aware of this little shortcoming.

He loved him just the way he was and he would continue to do this as long as he lived. It didn't matter that his love would remain unrequited. He was more than content with whatever scraps of affection Harry threw his way from time to time,

"Harry, I know you worry about me but seriously nothing is the matter. In fact, you cannot imagine how happy I am to have you back."

Harry pulled away and scrutinized his face before finally smiling,

"Awwww... I was really looking forward to murdering one of your employees. In fact, I'd thought of so many creative ways to go about it."

He wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and began leading him out of the office,

"Why don't you tell me all about that over dinner and I'll make arrangements so that you can employ all these creative means."

Harry snickered and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek,

"You definitely know how to spoil me rotten."


	73. Chapter 73

All through dinner, Harry contemplated Fenrir's earlier display of emotions. He knew exactly what he'd been thinking. Fenrir believed that he was unaware of the sentiments he was harboring for him, but he was. He knew Fenrir loved him. Love…It seemed so unreal…unnatural…It didn't exist…It wasn't supposed to be. But Fenrir loved him…He loved him regardless of the fact that he would never love him back.

Another misconception that Fenrir held was that he was incapable of feeling or understanding emotions, but he did. He understood them. He even felt some of them…Guilt was the most predominant one whenever he was around Fenrir and he started behaving that way. He couldn't blame him though. He'd inculcated those feelings…watered them… bred them and now they were choking Fenrir from the inside out. That had never been his intention, so he would simply have to endure the guilt and wait for Fenrir to grow tired of loving him…which seemed highly unlikely at this point and as selfish as it was…That fact absolutely delighted him. He didn't want Fenrir to ever look at anyone, the way he looked at him. He loved to be the center of all of Fenrir's affections and even though he knew that the man would be better off with someone who could actually fulfil his needs, he would never allow it to happen. What could he say? He was wicked to the very core and it was incurable.

After dinner, Fenrir offered to arrange some entertainment for him, but he declined. He wasn't in the mood for screams and blood tonight. He wanted quite the opposite actually. Fenrir must have read it in his eyes because he spoke,

"Ready to go home then?"

Harry nodded. Fenrir was the only one who always knew what he needed and wanted and made it happen.

They were in the car and Harry was staring down at his clothes. He hadn't changed ever since he'd gotten back, and the clothes were really starting to bother him. He downright hated them…hated how terribly average he looked in them…Hated the way they felt on his skin…

True, he wore clothes like this everyday when he was in his detective persona, but he had no compulsion to wear them here. Fenrir rested his warm hand on his thigh and spoke softly,

"I had Andrew restock your wardrobe a week ago."

Harry grinned, pulled Greyback's hand up to his lips and kissed it,

"You're a life saver."

Fenrir smiled, and Harry let go of his hand. Fenrir had a very specific scent and a very specific taste, and he had grown highly attuned to both. The car pulled up in the driveway of their South Hampton estate and Harry felt giddy with joy. He stepped out of the car and the first place he visited was the garage. Fenrir caught up to him just as he was pulling away the tarp from his Black Veneno Roadster. It was just as beautiful as he remembered it and he was glad to see that Fenrir had been taking care of it. He would have hated to see it covered in dust. It wasn't the only car he owned but it was his favorite…well only until he got a new favorite…

Fenrir had one of the servants replace the tarp as Harry made his way to the house. He felt incredibly soothed at the sight of the familiar porch columns, roof dormers and window boxes sprouting red geraniums. When Fenrir had bought it for him, the house had faced east. He'd remodeled it. He'd had it pulled back from the road and rotated it at ninety degrees to face south.

The interiors had been just as terrible, so he'd rolled out the stone. Marble covered the floors of the entire main level, including the sun porch, with its diamond-pane windows and Chinese porcelain vases filled with geraniums. It skated across the basement, to the threshold of the wine-storage room and his studio…as he liked to call it where he indulged his inner psychopath whenever it got too loud. It flowed up the sides of bathtubs and surrounded the five fireplaces. It was oxblood red in the paneled library, which had a coffered ceiling, and greyish-white in the crème brûlée kitchen, which also had a coffered ceiling.

On the second floor, the floors were parquet with ribbon-like borders. The wood turned into simple, straight boards in the servants' quarters. On the third floor, the ceilings were predictably lower, and the dormers created cozy spaces. He used them when he was feeling particularly reclusive. They contained all his instruments except for the piano. The piano was the centerpiece of the sun room. Under the gambrel roof of the addition was a game room with lines of closets built into the stubby walls and a half-moon window overlooking the emerald front lawn.

The grounds had a swimming pool and gazebo, a cherry-tree allée leading to a fountain, and a tennis court sheltered by 30-year-old pines. Hundreds of boxwoods surround the heated Belgian block driveway. The three-car garage was attached to the pool house.

Harry made his way into the living room and couldn't help the smile that blossomed on his lips every time he saw all the photographs Fenrir had put on display. There were photographs of him at his graduation…One in which he was posing with Fenrir while he held his award…The very award that he'd dedicated to him… Because, if it hadn't been for Fenrir, he wouldn't be here…steepled in all this wealth. He was sure, he would have found a way to make things work even if Fenrir hadn't stepped into his life, but he wasn't fool enough to believe that he could have ever been this wealthy or powerful.

He went through all the other photographs. There was one of him, strumming on his guitar with his eyes closed. Fenrir had taken that with his phone and Harry was always confounded by how peaceful he looked in that photograph when he was restless by nature. There was another one in which he played the piano. Then there were the one's of him and Fenrir when he'd shown him the world…just like he'd promised. There were pictures of them in Paris, another in Belarus…several candid ones of them in Prague, Hawaii, Rome, Athens, Cairo, Delhi, Tokyo, Mali…The wall was covered with them.

Home…This was home… Because he knew, he just knew that no matter where he was, no matter what happened, he would always come back here. He could always come back here and be himself. Fenrir wrapped an arm around his waist and Harry saw the moisture in his eyes as he stared at the pictures with him,

"Come on, Fen. Don't go all sentimental on me now."

Fenrir shook his head and spoke,

"You know very well that I have no control over my sentiments around you."

Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek and spoke,

"I'm going to call it a night. See you in the morning, Fen."

He walked out of the living room, through the corridors and up the steps. There were two master bedrooms on this floor along with two guest ones, even though, they never had any guests here. He made his way to the one that belonged to him and pushed open the door.

The King-sized bed was placed exactly opposite to the entrance. The sheets were crimson red which complimented the dark wallpapered walls perfectly. There was a small sitting area in the room around the fireplace. Apart from that heavy drapes concealed the French doors from view which led to the balcony. He usually liked his bedroom dark though, so the drapes mostly stayed closed. Apart from the French doors, there was sliding glass door that led to his walk-in closet and another that led to the bathroom.

He walked into the closet and found that his bags had already been placed there. He pulled out his laptop and its charger and placed them both on the nightstand along with his phone before finally stripping out of the distasteful clothes. He grabbed a pair of his favorite black silk pajamas from the closet before dropping them on the bed and making his way into the bathroom.

The bathroom was a place of peace and solitude from the soft muted hues of white, gray and blue to the luxurious deep soaking tub and shower area with a combination of multiple shower heads and body jets. The frameless glass shower enclosure furthered the open feel of the room and showcased the shower's glittering mosaic marble and polished nickel fixtures.

He stepped into the shower area and turned on the water to full blast. He grabbed his favorite shower gel and pumped a generous amount of it onto his palm before rubbing himself clean. It took him fifteen minutes in total to wash himself and his hair before he stepped back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Fenrir was seated on the bed and Harry saw the way his eyes visibly darkened with lust and the flush that crept over his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with his obvious arousal. Harry stalked towards the bed and just when he was standing inches away from Fenrir, he dropped the towel.

Fenrir practically moaned out and Harry reached forward and took his chin,

"I know you came here to see me like this."

Fenrir's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and nodded. Fenrir had seen him naked so many times, so it didn't bother him. In fact, he simply adored how helpless Fenrir became when he saw him like this…. How he worshiped every inch of him with his eyes and hands…if he allowed it… How he simply lost his ability to speak…to think…

Fenrir made a soft desperate sound and Harry understood it,

"You want to touch me?"

Fenrir nodded vigorously and pleaded with his eyes. Harry pretended to think about it before straddling him and spoke,

"You have my permission, Fen."

The look in Fenrir's eyes was of a man who'd just been offered a drink of water after days of thirst. Fenrir ran his fingers through his damp hair. He smoothed his calloused palms down his shoulder, over his chest, down his stomach until his hands rested just above his nether regions. Fenrir looked at him, his eyes seeking permission and Harry spoke,

"You may."

Fenrir licked his lips and Harry felt his erection press into his thigh as he slowly, carefully almost reverently touched his cock. He wrapped his arms around Fenrir's neck while he explored every inch of his cock and balls. Fenrir's entire body was trembling, and Harry could see how hard he was trying not to rub off against him,

"Do it."

Fenrir immediately began humping against him with a crazed frenzy and it only took a minute before he was coming in his pants as he howled out his name. Fenrir slumped back on the mattress, completely drained out but the look on his face was of pure ecstasy and he felt highly satisfied with it. He rose to his feet and slipped on the pajama bottoms. He pulled off Fenrir's shoes and socks, before doing away with his soiled pants and briefs. The last to go was his shirt before Harry pulled him in the middle of the bed and settled down beside him. Fenrir wrapped his arms around him immediately and clung to him like a needy child. He didn't mind though. He got high on how dependent Fenrir was on him,

"Have you grown bored of Andy?"

Andy was Fenrir's latest pet and his sole job was to tend to all of Fenrir's sexual needs. He also knew perfectly well that none of them could hold Fenrir's interest whenever he came around, so it really wasn't Andy's fault but nevertheless, he still had to know. Fenrir nuzzled his head in his shoulder and mumbled something incoherent sleepily. Harry shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. It was best that he have this conversation in the morning. Fenrir's body was radiating more heat than the sun and Harry spoke,

"You're burning up like a furnace. The full moon must be really close."

Fenrir was already asleep though and Harry pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. No one would believe that he was a big bad wolf if they could look at him now. The knowledge that he was the only one who could reduce Fenrir to this state, intoxicated him immensely and lulled him to sleep.


	74. Chapter 74

He woke up and the first thing he did was to grope around the bed…Nothing…Nothing but cold sheets…He silently groaned in disappointment even though he knew…he knew perfectly well that Harry didn't need much sleep and he always woke up before the crack of dawn.

He rolled over and buried his face in Harry's pillow which was still scented with Harry's favorite shampoo… A sharp mixture of absinthe, sage and vanilla. It was powerfully masculine and extremely sensual, and it was enough to get him hard once again.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone from the side table and checked the time. It was nearly ten in the morning. Thanks Heavens, it was a Sunday. He could relax…He could relax now anyway because Harry was back now. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Harry would be supervising everything in person.

He'd been truly blessed the day Vernon Dursley had offered him his nephew.

He kicked away the covers and found a robe waiting for him on the edge of the bed. Harry had left it there, no doubt. He pulled it on and made his way towards his own bedroom. It took him a few minutes to take a shower and get dressed and when he had, he went to find Harry.

He didn't need to find him though. He knew precisely where he would be. On his way to the basement, he gave the servant orders to prepare breakfast…all Harry's favorites… and instructed him to change the sheets in Harry's room.

After that, he made his way down the stairs, through the wine cellar and straight into a huge room that was currently shrouded in darkness. He turned on the lights and illuminated the room. An array of whips, floggers, canes, knives and every manner of torture devices lined the walls and the steel work bench. Iron fixtures decorated the walls and ceilings for the purpose of bondage. There was even a cage…barely large enough to house a fully-grown man.

He ignored it and walked towards the farthest wall. He pressed a button, hidden well underneath a brick and the wall slid away, revealing a dark passageway. He stepped inside, and the wall slid back into place behind him. No one…apart from him, Harry, Andrew and Paul knew about this part of the house. It wasn't even mentioned on the plans. Sure enough, the sound of Harry's voice drifted to him from the end of the passageway and he slowed his pace.

He had never been able to understand the things, Harry talked about when he was down here. He stepped into the small cell and wrinkled his nose at the horribly pungent smell. He had never been able to get used to it. Harry stood against the wall, with a knife in his hand. He was dressed in a black silk shirt that clung to his frame like it had been sewn on it. The black jeans seemed like they'd been painted on them. Harry looked utterly gorgeous and absolutely lethal because the look in his emerald eyes screamed hatred and murder.

He had to tear his gaze away from him to look at the permanent occupant of the little cell. The bald incandescent bulb sheds its illumination on the bastard beast of the hour. The illustrious Albus Dumbledore, hung from the wall by thick iron chains at his wrists, his feet shackled to the floor by short lengths of similar chains. He was emaciated and filthy, his wasted muscles tight with the starvation that was wracking his puny frame. His legs had curled beneath him, so he was no longer standing so much as suspended by his wrists. His shoulders had dislocated, and the weight of his own body would have suffocated him long ago, if not for the climber's gear that hooked his waist to the wall and held him up. His miserable little cock and withered balls hung free in the harness, a mockery of manhood everywhere. A puddle of his own piss and shit stained the stone floor beneath him.

He retched at the stench and Harry sighed,

"Animals…They're so messy…"

He watched as Harry stepped closer to Dumbledore and checked the IV and the saline drip that kept him from completely dehydrating. He grabbed a handful of his greasy grey hair and pulled his head up. Dumbledore's eyes loll in their sockets, and his dry mouth fell open. His cheeks were hollow, the yellowing skin drawn tightly around his bony face,

"Do you want me to kill you?"

A low pitiful sound escaped from Dumbledore's lips and Harry laughed coldly,

"Never… I am going to keep you alive…I'm keeping you alive for my princess."

There was that word again…Princess…At first, he'd thought that Harry was in love with a woman but no…There was no woman…

He gagged on the pungent smell again. Paul only hosed Dumbledore down once a week to keep the rats at bay. Harry had hired him specifically to look after Dumbledore and to keep him alive.

Harry had singlehandedly kidnapped Dumbledore as soon as he'd graduated. He'd said it was his graduation present to himself and ever since then he'd kept Dumbledore down here.

Harry ran the blunt side of the blade over Dumbledore's neck and spoke,

"I will never let you die."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and Harry pulled the blade away,

"You should have never messed with me."

He pulled away from Dumbledore and came to stand in front of him,

"Come on, Fen. You look sick."

He grasped his hand in his and began leading him out of the cell. He had lost all appetite for food but once they were back upstairs, Harry pulled him out in the grounds for some fresh air. It helped some but not much. He never understood why the stench in that cell bothered him when he consumed humans in his wolf form,

"Do you feel better now?"

He nodded but Harry didn't look convinced. A wide smirk brightened up his face though and he spoke,

"I'm taking you for a drive."

Drive wasn't exactly the word for what Harry did. He practically flew his car and the prospect only made him more nauseous. He didn't voice that though and ten minutes later Harry was strapping him in the passenger seat before settling in the driver's seat himself. He revved up the engine a couple of times and then they were speeding off.


	75. Chapter 75

At breakfast, Harry was more focused on the tablet in his hand than the food in front of him as he grilled Andrew about the new deal they were planning to negotiate with a new cartel that had emerged in England and was giving the order a run for their money. After Harry had kidnapped Dumbledore, the order had been taken over by Gellert Grindelwald. The only reason Harry had allowed Grindelwald to keep the order was because he hadn't considered him a threat. He still didn't but Harry kept eyes on them and had planted spies in their midst, so he was always aware of what was going on there.

But this new cartel had seemed promising to him…It seemed it didn't seem promising to Harry if the scowl on his face as he stared at the tablet was any indication,

"I don't trust these people or their credibility."

He was about to state that Harry never trusted anyone but kept that to himself at the moment. Andrew spoke up,

"I went over their previous dealings personally and didn't find a shred of evidence that showed that they'd…"

Harry placed the tablet down on the table and the glare he leveled at Andrew would have turned any normal person to stone,

"Irrelevant…All of that is bloody irrelevant… Tell me who's the brains behind their operation? Do you have any intel on that?"

Andrew placed the file he'd been holding down on the table and spoke,

"All the intel I have on them is in your tablet."

Harry picked up the tablet and in one felt swoop smashed it against the wall,

"That is what I think of your intel… Bloody useless…"

Harry pulled out his phone and made a call,

"I'm sending you some files on a new cartel. Find me the decision makers…All of them…"

Whoever was on the other end must have said something because Harry grinned, and his eyes lit up with mischief,

"Get me what I want, and I'll get you what you want."

He ended the call and then turned his attention to him,

"When were you going to tell me about this, Fen?"

He held Harry's gaze and spoke,

"Well…considering that Andrew just informed you…"

Harry shook his head in exasperation but there was a smile on his face now,

"Listen to me, Fen. We will not deal with those people till I know everything there is to know about them. I don't care how successful their past transactions have been…I don't care how credible their sources are."

He sighed and nodded,

"Fine."

Harry finally picked up his knife and fork and started eating. In less than five minutes, he had a clean plate,

"Marie!"

Marie was one of their housemaids. When Harry had been hiring the staff here, he'd handpicked people with dark backgrounds, abusive childhoods and financial problems and then given them everything they could ever dream of and in return he'd asked them for one thing and one thing only…Their undying loyalty…Well that and he'd compelled them all to sign an NDA.

Marie stepped into the room and Harry wordlessly pointed towards the spot where the shattered bits of the tablet's screen were spread out all over the floor. When Marie was done cleaning and had cleared away the dishes from the table, he spoke,

"Get me Andy."

She bowed her head and spoke,

"Yes, Sir."

Before tottering out of the room. Once again, he found himself to be the center of Harry's undivided attention and Harry spoke,

"I asked you something last night, Fen."

He remembered that and the truth was that he didn't want Andy or anyone else for that matter whenever Harry was around. Everyone just seemed so bland…so utterly uninteresting,

"No…Andy is fine…"

Harry raised an eyebrow,

"Are you absolutely sure?"

He nodded, and Harry leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair,

"That's good then. The full moon is a couple of days away and usually your pets don't survive through your rut. I'll get you a brand new one after the rut then."

Andrew spoke up,

"We should have a hunt this time."

A wicked gleam lit up Harry's eyes and he laughed softly,

"Yes…We should… Can we, Fen?"

Anything that made Harry laugh like that just absolutely had to happen, so he spoke,

"Yes, arrange for that."

Soon enough, Andy stepped into the room and Harry levelled him with his gaze. He was a young, slender dark-haired guy with eyes that were green but nowhere as beautiful as Harry's. His hair lacked the silkiness…that inky darkness… His eyes lacked that lustre…His face lacked that exquisite beauty…His lips… They were nowhere near as kissable as Harry's… But what he lacked the most was the absolute, pure power that Harry exuded…He was a very poor imitation.

On normal days when Harry was miles away from him, it was so easy to imagine Harry whenever he claimed his pets…whenever he ravaged them… But it was nearly impossible when Harry sat right there…the epitome of perfection…

Harry crooked his finger as a smirk twisted his features. Andy dropped to his knees and immediately crawled his way to Harry before kissing the tips of his shoes,

"Where were you last night, Andy? I was expecting that you would come greet me."

He watched the utter reverence in Andy's eyes as he spoke in a low voice,

"Master Harry…I wished to come see you last night but Master Greyback forbade me."

Harry laughed, and the sound was like chimes in the wind. It was beautiful…utterly beautiful. He could just sit back and listen to it all day. He watched the way Harry grabbed a handful of Andy's hair and spoke,

"You've been neglecting your duties."

Andy shook his head frantically as fear lit up his eyes,

"No…Master…I have not…You may ask Master Greyback if you don't believe me."

Harry tsked,

"I don't have to ask him anything. Fenrir spent the night in my bed. That is proof enough for me."

Andy gripped Harry's feet tight and the way he cowered in fear was absolutely delicious,

"Please…Master…It was not up to me…I tried…I truly did…"

Harry raised an eyebrow and spoke in a soft sultry tone,

"Andy… You tried, and you failed. You admitted your incompetence and you know very well that I don't tolerate incompetence."

Andy's head fell in silent submission and Harry rose to his feet. He unbuckled his belt and ripped it off. It made a zip sound as it was rapidly freed of the belt loops on his jeans. Harry rested a hand on Andy's nape and uttered the order in a cold, calculated voice that made the hairs on his body stand on ends,

"Take off your shirt and your pants."

Andy obeyed quickly as Harry doubled the belt in his hand. He saw the way Harry's eyes were alight with amusement…more beautiful than wet emeralds. Andy's skin was covered in bite-marks, nail marks and bruises…some fresh…some days old…

Harry struck him with the belt, hard. A scarlet stripe appeared across Andy's back, but he made no sound. That seemed to have appeased Harry because he grinned before he hit him again. Another stripe crossed the first. This time, Andy gasped, followed by a moan.

Harry made a soft sound of approval and then beat him…really beat him… as hard and as fast as he could. The leather whistled through the air, then cracked as it connected with Andy's pearly flesh.

_Lash. Lash. Lash._

Andy was beautiful now, all striped up and bleeding. He was crying, grateful sobs, because he'd also come all over the place.

Harry scolded sharply as he wrapped the belt around his hand,

"Did I say that you could cum? Look at the mess you've made."

Andy cried out,

"I'm sorry, Master…I'm so sorry…"

Harry grabbed Andy by the hair and pulled him up to his feet before turning him around to face him,

"You have one more chance, Andy. If Fenrir spends another night in my bed, I shall be sending you off."

Andy was doomed to fail because he was powerless when it came to spending the night away from Harry. It was different when Harry was in Baltimore because then he had no choice but to sleep alone but it was an entirely different story when Harry was in the next room. Tears streamed down Andy's cheeks as he collapsed back on his knees and grabbed a hold of Harry's ankles,

"No…Master…Please, don't. I want to serve you and Master Greyback. I will serve you."

He could never understand how Harry managed to make people worship him…All his pets…all the pets that Harry picked were the same. They kissed the very ground Harry tread on and were perfectly happy to die at his hands when they'd outlived their usefulness. It was a power, he'd never seen anyone possess and it made Harry so much more formidable.


	76. Chapter 76

Harry parked his car well off the road and stepped out. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, black shirt and black boots, paired with a black jacket. It wasn't like he hated other colours…but they never appealed to him like black did. There was something formidable about it. It was a fact that black was a mixture of every colour known to man. Maybe that's why it was so powerful.

Twigs crunched underneath his boots as he walked through the clearing. There were headlights visible through the trees in the distance and he knew that that could only be another wolf with tonight's entertainment. He didn't pity tonight's prey, not by a long shot. As far as he was concerned, getting hunted down and ripped open by a pack of angry werewolves was a fate far better than any child rapist deserved.

He couldn't help but grin as he fished his fingerless gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He loved…absolutely loved these hunts…They exhilarated him and made the blood in his veins sing with excitement. He quickened his pace and hurried towards the spot, they usually gathered at.

The sight of the dozens upon dozens of wolves waiting in the woods made him smile. They all fell silent and stared at me, but only the faces of a few toward the front of the pack were illuminated in the glow of the torches. There were several familiar faces…some newer ones but they were all aware of his status and he was perfectly content with that.

Fenrir was standing to the side, his posture exuding dominance and power. He nodded at him curtly before turning towards them all,

"Now, brothers and sisters. Come take your form before the moon."

The entire pack got down on their knees, one after the other, and the shift happened before his eyes. It always fascinated him how their human faces lengthened and grew monstrous in the span of seconds. But they all looked like normal wolves. Fenrir's transformation was always the most beautiful. He turned into a creature whose head reached the middle branch of the nearest tree, too perfectly sculpted and animated to be a man in a costume. He was nine feet high at least. His head was sharp and canine, with furry ears covered in the same dark brown coat that covered the rest of its muscular body. It looked like someone had stuck a wolf's head on a monster's body, slightly hunched over as it stood on its burly hind legs.

Harry walked over to the van and pulled open the door. The six men inside cowered in fear at the sight of him and Harry stepped away from the entrance,

"You're free to go."

There were several long exhalations of reliefs and words of gratitude as the men began to file out of the van but they all froze at the sight that greeted them. Harry rested a hand on the shoulder of the nearest one and whispered conspiratorially in his ear,

"They're a bunch of monsters. If I were you, I'd run as fast as possible."

The moonlight filtered through the thick cover of the trees in tiny spotlights. Fenrir howled loudly, and the other wolves followed his lead until the sound was eardrum shattering. Harry gave the guy a little shove and spoke,

"Go on…Run…"

And he was off while the other five darted right behind him. Wrong move…They were better off scattering. Harry looked down at his watch. Five minutes…Exactly five minutes and then he would give chase…The werewolves would follow after ten minutes. He detached his combat knife from his belt and unsheathed it. He carried a hand gun too, but it was only for emergencies. When the five minutes were up, he sprinted in the direction, the men had ran in.

He covered the uneven forest floor with a lolloping gait that suggested his ankles were made of tightly coiled springs rather than the sinew and bone. Each one of his mighty strides were worth at least two of any normal person. His raven black locks whipped back and forth behind him as he flung himself over sharp rocks and heavy tree trunks. With the slightest of effort, he came across the first man and grabbed him from behind. The howls and growls from his surroundings told him that the wolves had entered the fray. He slit the first one's throat effortlessly and carved an 'H' on his forehead to mark him as his kill before moving on.

Every time, he ran there was never a question of stopping until he'd achieved his goal. He knew how to keep going even when his body told him there was no more in the tank. There was always a reserve, if you're stubborn enough to demand it, and he was. By all accounts he was the most stubborn bastard in the entire world. Running had taught him the true meaning of "Giving it your all'. It meant giving until you thought you were spent and then finding more to give anyway. That kind of endurance was without a doubt the most valuable lesson he'd ever learnt.

He found his second kill an hour later and decided that that was all he was going to get for the night. And sure, enough another combined howl signalled the end of the hunt. He ran back towards the clearing and found the werewolves gathered there under the moonlight. It was bright enough to see the blood that coated Fenrir's and almost all of the werewolves' fur, claws and fangs.

He made his way towards Fenrir and ran his fingers through his fur,

"I think its safe to say that I won. I killed two of those men singlehandedly while all of you combined killed four."

A soft rumble moved through Fenrir's body and Harry laughed softly,

"Thank you for this."

Organizing a hunt was no child's play. There were a lot of precautions that needed to be put in place before a hunt happened. The local authorities needed to be bribed, the entire area needed to be warded off, so no innocent member of the public stumbled upon them. The fact that Fenrir went through all that trouble to make it happen for him spoke volumes of his love and devotion.

The werewolves began to scatter and when he and Fenrir were all alone, Fenrir let out a soft whine before lowering down in front of him. Harry ran his hand over his snout and petted his muzzle,

"I ordered Andy to be prepared for you."

Fenrir nuzzled his head in his hand and Harry caressed his pointed ears gently,

"I know you hate it when I'm away but it's only until your rut is over. I'll be back next Monday."

The only reason he stayed away from Fenrir during his rut was because it became extra hard for Fenrir to control himself and his sexual urges around him. When he wasn't around, he could let himself loose on any pet and that was far more convenient then having Fenrir lose control and ravage him.

He petted Fenrir on the head one last time and spoke,

"I'll bring your new pet along when I return."

Fenrir didn't respond to that. Harry knew he was sullen about his leaving, but he would come around. He always did.

He made his way back to the car and got in. Fenrir had risen back to his full height and was regarding his car with a predatory gaze. Harry gave him a smile before reversing onto the road and speeding away.


	77. Chapter 77

He leaned against a lamp post across the street from his target’s office building. The neighbourhood was the perfect spot. Minimal foot traffic. Semi-upscale section. Plenty of alleys on either side. He didn't bother remembering his name past the point of finding him. There would be plenty of time to get acquainted before he killed him.

His search for the head of the new cartel Fenrir was insistent on dealing with had yielded zero results and that frustrated him. He didn’t enjoy not knowing. His target was known to be secretly associated with the cartel and he was here to make him squeal before he stole his life. He knew some killers who kept mementos of their kills. A tiny reminder, but that was evidence and a stupid serial killer mistake. They got off on reliving the kills. He only needed the moment the life drained from his mark.

He casually smoked a cigarette. He despised it but no one really paid attention to some guy in a suit having a smoke on the curb. He only ever smoked to blend. He snubbed out the smoke and pocketed the filter so as not to leave DNA. The light was slowly dying as dusk moved seamlessly into night. He always appreciated the peacefulness of it.

Boredom was a constant in my life. That was the main reason he kept his job as Detective for the Baltimore Police Department. It spiced up his life and kept his brain constantly stimulated with the cases he was meant to crack. Of course, he needed to kill from time to time but he had to restrain those urges monumentally when he was in Baltimore.

Here…There were no restraints.

A short man, round around the middle in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit exited the front door. He casually strode across the street. His distance behind his mark was enough that his instincts wouldn't kick in that he was being followed. Yet still close enough he was always in sight.

His mark walked to the parking garage down the block. He'd already scoped out his spot on a mid-level. And while it would've made more sense to wait for him there, a stranger hanging out around vehicles had the potential to draw attention.

The time of the act drew closer. He subtly looked around and even nodded at a lady who passed him, her smile small and brief. It was that polite smile that always came with false politeness…just some societal expectation. He'd studied every visual, emotional cue…every microexpression. In order to blend, he needed to be perceived as normal and respectable as possible.

He slightly increased his pace when he turned the corner into the garage. His vanity worked in Harry’s favour because he took such pride in his middle-aged crisis sports car. He’d parked it on a nearly empty level. His steps echoed as he slipped inside, and Harry shot out his arm to catch the elevator door before it closed.

He chose the floor above his and reclined against the back wall of the elevator. The man didn't spare him a glance or start in on the small talk so many people tried awkwardly to initiate. If they used security footage in the elevator, the brim of his cap concealed his face and the prosthetics he used softened his sharp angular features. He'd padded his shoulders, chest, and waist, that added a twenty-pound illusion to his slender frame. The inserts in his shoes gave him another inch in height. He'd already scoped out the security protocol, and they only videoed entry and exit points.

The small ding signaled they'd reached his floor. He exited, and just as the door began to close, he stepped through the narrow space. Harry stopped as he let his gaze scan the dim interior. The lights didn't break the shadowed edges. A few cars were parked on the opposite side, and his mark's footsteps were the only ones he could hear. Harry bent his arm behind him to reach under the hem of his jacket, and everything inside him went still at the sound of steel on leather as he unsheathed his blade.

Even in the cavern of the garage, with practiced stealth, his steps barely made a sound. He mentally planned it out, saw it in its every step, from the grab to the second he pressed my blade to his throat. The last few steps, he jumped and placed his hand over his mouth, and his futile struggles were nothing against his strength. The cool edge of his knife against his throat instantly ceased his fighting, and Harry dragged him to the other side of the car. He kicked at the back of his knee, and he fell, as Harry released him.

The man opened his mouth to beg and the corner of Harry’s mouth lifted into a cold smirk,

“You can have whatever you want. Here's my wallet.”

He frantically dug the item from his back pocket and tried to offer it to him. When he didn't take it, the man promised him everything from his car to whatever money I wanted,

“I have a hundred grand…it's yours.”

Harry asked as he drew the lethal point down his rounded cheek and watched as the skin split,

“Do you think money solves everything?”

The thrill started to build, and the pleasure nearly had a shiver running the length of his body. He repeated the motion with the other cheek and felt his smirk widen.

Terror made people do odd things. When he could call out for help, he seemed frozen. Harry crouched down to put them at eye-level. He started picking the buttons from his shirt until the pale smooth skin beneath was revealed.

“Do you know why you're going to die?”

His answer was a stuttered no, and I leaned in close, the stench of his sweat tickled his nose, and Harry chuckled darkly at the way he flinched.

“You're about to find out.”

The strike was quick, and he fell backward, the sound of his head hitting the cement rang in every direction. Harry stowed away the man in the trunk of car and got in the driver’s seat before driving out of the garage calmly.

* * *

 

Nothing…No amount of blood could ever compare to that one drop that had resurrected him. He stared at the parchment spread out on the desk in front of him as he waited for the blood to dry.

His Prince Charming…

It had been years now… And he had yet to find a hint of his existence. It was almost as if he had been a ghost that had vanished into thin air… An angel, perhaps that been specifically sent to resurrect him before he’d been pulled back to the heavens above.

He would not give up though. His voice always rang in his ears… A sweet cadence that no other voice in the world could replicate. He had ran over his words a thousand times in his head but there was nothing that remotely hinted at his identity and he believed that it was not an accident. His prince had eluded him by design.

The first thing he had done after gaining suitable sustenance was to seek out the boy that had been his downfall only to realize that he’d been killed a few weeks ago. It had severely disappointed him. But what had disappointed him the most was Dumbledore’s sudden disappearance. He had been so close to exacting his revenge when someone had beat him to it. There was no shortage of people that had been wronged by Dumbledore. It could be anyone. The only thing that mattered was that the old bastard was rotting in some unmarked grave. After that, he had focused all his attentions on finding his Prince Charming, but fate had not smiled on him yet. In the meantime, he had been reconstructing his empire brick by brick from scratch and now when he had finally returned to his former strength and glory, he was almost ready to step back out into the light.

Just a few days more…


	78. Chapter 78

He shouted out in frustration and shattered the closest thing he could get his hands on which turned out to be one of Fenrir's pricey Ming vases… Great… Absolutely terrific… Now he'd have to buy him a new one. Why the hell was a piece of porcelain so expensive?

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath to calm himself before he demolished the rest of the Fenrir's collection.

What the hell was all this secrecy about? He had never expected this matter to get so out of hand. At first, he'd only been investigating the cartel because Fenrir wanted to deal with them but now… Now he felt that it was steadily becoming his obsession. He would not rest until he figured out who was running this cartel.

Torturing the man hadn't yielded any results and he'd eventually died. So, he was right where he'd been before he'd put all that effort in kidnapping him. He reclined back on the couch and entwined his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling and thought up a viable plan of action.

The cartel wasn't even a threat to them but the air of mystery that surrounded its top-level management was unnatural. There had to be a way to lure them out. He kicked away a cushion from the couch angrily as every single one of his plans involved dealing with those sneaky bastards.

Sighing in frustration, he rose to his feet and looked around the opulent penthouse. He loathed this place. It was too sterile…too cold for his liking. He wanted to go home. Pulling out his phone, he called Andrew and waited for him to pick up.

He was just on the verge of tossing the phone away when Andrew picked up and Harry shouted,

"What the hell took you so long?"

Andrew apologized customarily and that just angered him even more, so he ended the call. He was restless…absolutely disconcerted. He didn't enjoy feeling so off balance. He was going home and that was that. He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his back before locking up the penthouse and heading downstairs.

The drive from the penthouse to the estate took him nearly an hour. He didn't bother parking his car in the garage and left it in the driveway before heading inside. The air was rent with the sound of Andy's screams and that was the first thing that calmed him down. The second was the familiar warmth he associated with the estate. Marie hurried to greet him, and Harry tossed his jacket and keys to her,

"Have Anton take care of my baby."

Marie nodded silently before hurrying away and Harry mounted the stairs two at a time. He was walking past Fenrir's room towards his own when the door burst open and Fenrir blocked his path. His hair was mussed up. There was at least six days' worth of growth on his jaw and there was a manic look in his blue eyes. He was in his human form, but his canines were protruding past his lower lip and covered in blood…Andy's no doubt…

"Harry…"

His voice was more of a wolfish growl and less human,

"Fen, step out of the way."

Harry watched the way Fenrir's claws lengthened,

"No."

Harry sighed and stepped closer to him,

"I don't want to hurt you, Fen. But if you touch me now, I will have no choice."

Fenrir lashed out at him and Harry was ready for it. In a flash, he had unclipped the silver handcuffs he'd brought with him from his belt and had them fastened around Fenrir's wrists. Fenrir began screaming and writhing as the silver bit into his wrists and eventually collapsed on his knees. Harry ran his hand over his face and pulled out the silver collar from his messenger bag before placing it around Fenrir's neck for good measure.

Fenrir's animalistic howls of pain rang through the air as he slumped to his side and writhed uncontrollably on the hallway floor. He walked calmly into Fenrir's bedroom and found Andy, sprawled naked on the blood-stained bed. Fenrir had ripped into his body, but he was alive, judging by the sound of his raspy breathing. The air reeked of sweat, sex and wolf pheromones. He stepped closer to the bed and ran his hand through Andy's blood slicked hair.

Andy's body jerked at the sight of him and he made a miserable little sound of pain but the submission and reverence in his eyes was beautiful. Harry leaned over him and held his palm to Andy's torn lips and watched as he kissed it to the best of his ability,

"Who do you belong to, Andy?"

Andy's voice was utterly broken as he spoke,

"You… Master…"

Harry pulled his palm away and the disappointment was evident in Andy's eyes,

"Are you deserving of my mercy?"

Andy lowered his gaze and Harry rested his finger on his chin and tipped his head up,

"You have done well, Andy. I am so proud of you."

Andy looked up into his eyes with so much adoration. He unsheathed his blade and spoke,

"It will be quick."

Andy shook his head frantically,

"Make it slow, Master… Hurt me…"

Harry bent over him and brushed his lips over Andy's,

"Ssshhh… Trust me to know what's best for you… Do you trust me?"

Andy nodded quickly, and Harry rested the edge of his blade on his throat. Andy pushed his head deeper into the mattress, arching his neck, exposing it beautifully,

"I…love…you, Master…"

Harry pressed a kiss to Andy's forehead and the look on his face was of pure ecstasy. But there was absolute longing in his eyes. He wanted to hear him say that he loved him too…That would never happen…

He ran the blade over Andy's carotid artery in one quick, efficient, perfectly measured slash. It took exactly eighty six seconds for the light to leave Andy's eyes. There was nothing but absolute joy and utter acceptance on Andy's face as Harry closed his eyes and rose to his feet.

Fenrir's screams had died down and Harry knelt beside him. The claws were gone and so were the canines and he was curled up in a fetal position and sobbing ceaselessly. Harry uncuffed his wrists and removed the collar before pulling him to his feet and taking him to his own bedroom.

Fenrir clung to him and Harry had to take all his weight as he led him to the bed and laid him down. He deposited the cuffs and the collar on the night stand and opened the cabinet to get the healing salve for Fenrir's wrist and neck.

Carefully he applied it to the savage burns. Fenrir began screaming anew but Harry kept at it until he was satisfied with the coating. He pressed a kiss to Fenrir's sweaty forehead when he was done and settled down beside him in bed,

"I'm sorry I had to do that, Fen."

Fenrir nuzzled his head in his chest and Harry smoothed his fingers through his unruly locks as he passed out in his arms. 


	79. Chapter 79

Harry was leaning back in his seat and had it balanced on its hind legs as he scrutinized Andrew,

"We're going to deal with that new cartel."

Andrew's shoulders slumped in relief and Fenrir rasped out,

"What made you change your mind?"

Harry turned to look at him and straightened up in his chair. Fenrir's neck and wrists were covered in angry red burns,

"I did my scrutiny…They passed."

Fenrir didn't look convinced. Harry rose to his feet and came to stand behind Fenrir's chair before resting his hands on his shoulders and kissing the top of his head,

"I have a condition though."

Fenrir was about to turn his head, but Harry prevented his movements effectively by tightening his hold on his shoulders,

"I will not cut a deal until I've met their head."

Andrew visibly flinched at the demand and Harry knew that he knew how impossible it was.

"Call them now…I'll talk to them personally."

Andrew nodded silently, and Harry released Fenrir's shoulder before pacing the length of the dining room as Andrew made arrangements for the call. It took him five minutes and when he was done, he handed Harry the burner cell. Harry sat down on the edge of the table in front of Fenrir and took his hand in his as he waited for the call to be picked up from the other end.

A minute later, a woman spoke and inquired brusquely in a sharp voice,

"Yes…Who is it?"

Harry tipped his head back and spoke in his best French accent,

"Mademoiselle, je vous appelle au nom de Monsieur Greyback."  _/ Miss, I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Greyback._

The woman's tone instantly turned sweet as she asked,

"And who might you be?"

Harry smirked,

"Monsieur J… Vous avez peut-être entendu parler de moi." /  _Mister J. You might have heard of me._

The woman went silent for a while and then spoke,

"The Mister J, we have heard of, is not a French man."

Harry chuckled darkly,

"Je peux être qui je veux être. Tout ce que vous devez savoir, c'est que j'ai assez de pouvoir pour que cet accord se réalise" /  _I can be whomever I wish to be. All you need to know is that I have enough power to make this deal happen._

Harry ran his fingers over the veins on the back of Fenrir's hand and then spoke seriously,

"J'ai appelé pour vous informer que Monsieur Greyback est prêt à conclure un accord" /  _I called to inform you that Monsieur Greyback is prepared to make a deal._

The woman's voice was brimming with excitement as she spoke,

"That is excellent news. When can we expect the transaction to take place?"

Harry laughed darkly,

"Ralentissez, Mademoiselle. Nous avons une condition." /  _Slow down, Miss. We have a condition._

Confusion coloured the woman's voice as she asked,

"What is that?"

He pulled Fenrir closer to him and spread his legs so that he could stand between them,

"Nous ne conclurons pas d'accord avant de rencontrer le responsable de votre cartel." / _We will not cut a deal until we meet the head of your cartel_

Fenrir's gaze was laser focused on him and his tongue peeked out as he ran it over his lips. Harry was perfectly aware of how much it turned Fenrir on when he spoke in French. The woman was silent for a long time and just when Harry was beginning to wonder that the connection was severed. The woman spoke,

"I will have to consult my superiors on this matter."

Harry grinned and spoke,

"Vous avez exactement dix minutes" /  _You have exactly ten minutes_

And with that he ended the call before throwing the phone at Andrew who caught it haphazardly,

"Destroy it if they don't call back in ten minutes."

He wrapped an arm around Fenrir's waist and tipped his head back to examine the burns around his neck,

"It'll take two days for you to heal completely."

He picked up the plastic tub that contained the healing salve and removed the lid before gathering a generous amount on his fingers and then slathering it over Fenrir's neck. Fenrir winced and jerked away but Harry held him tight and continued his ministrations,

"You really shouldn't have forced my hand."

Fenrir nodded his head and spoke,

"I am truly sorry for my behaviour last night."

Harry finished slathering his neck with the strong-smelling salve and then got to work on his wrists,

"You don't have to apologize, Fen. I understand that you were still under the influence of the rut."

Harry called out to Marie loudly and waited for her to show up. She hurried into the room and Harry spoke,

"Has Master Greyback's room been cleaned up?"

She nodded quickly,

"Were Andy's remains and all his belongings disposed off properly?"

She nodded again, and Harry spoke,

"A new pet will be joining us today or tomorrow. Make the necessary preparations."

She finally spoke,

"Will that be all?"

Harry nodded and spoke,

"Yes."

She walked out of the room and Harry turned back to face Fenrir and Fenrir spoke,

"I have an exclusive pass to a new club that is opening up. Would you come with me tonight?"

Harry tapped his lips with his fingers and then spoke,

"You know very well that places like that hold no fascination for me."

Fenrir cupped his cheek and spoke,

"Please accompany me tonight."

Harry thought about it for a moment before speaking,

"Fine…I'll come."

Fenrir beamed, and Harry caressed his cheek softly. He was about to speak when the phone started ringing. Harry pulled his hand away from Fenrir's cheek and took the phone from Andrew,

"Alors, Mademoiselle. Avez-vous pris une decision?" /  _So, Miss. Have you reached a decision?_

The voice that flowed into his ears definitely did not belong to a woman. It was velvety smooth yet sharper than cut glass at the same time. A lethal cadence. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine and goosebumps erupted all over his body,

"Considérez que votre condition est remplie, Monsieur J. J'espère vous voir bientôt." /  _Consider your condition fulfilled, Mister J. I hope to see you soon_


	80. Chapter 80

Harry glared venomously at the outfit laid across his bed,

"I hope you understand the consequences of this, Andrew."

Andrew had his arms crossed over his chest,

"You ordered me to get that."

_That_  is an ensemble made up of a few scraps of leather and a whole lot of straps and buckles. Harry grabbed Andrew by the lapels of his suit jacket and ground out,

"What made you think I would wear something like that?"

Andrew stared at him unfazed and Harry wanted to strangle the life out of him, but he never acted on that impulse because as insolent as Andrew was…he was a bloody asset. He knew how to get things and he was trustworthy and loyal. But sometimes hiccups like this made him question his efficiency,

"You ordered me to get you something a slave would wear."

Harry shoved him into the wall and rested a hand on his throat,

"Well…This is clearly not what I had in mind."

He squeezed just a bit before letting go of Andrew, grabbed the outfit from the bed and tossed it at him before ordering him to get out.

He sat down on the bed and pulled out his phone to arrange for an alternate outfit before collapsing back on the bed. That damned voice was stuck in his head… It had been stuck in his head ever since the call had ended.

It unsettled him….

That voice unsettled him and that was highly unusual. He was never unsettled by anything but that voice…that bloody voice…It had been like shards of glass dipped in the sweetest honey…He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and rose to his feet. He needed to be at the top of his game. This meeting was absolutely important, and tonight was the first step in making sure that the meeting went the way he wanted.

He was planting his cover tonight…laying down the base of the identity he would be assuming during the meeting. No one had ever seen Mr. J, and it would continue to be that way.

It was three hours later when the outfit he'd ordered arrived. He admired it for a few moments before putting on his makeup, contacts and wig. It took him somewhere around two hours for him to get the look he desired and the results made him want to commend himself.

The outfit went on last and he was pleased to see that it fitted him like a charm. Fenrir was in for a surprise.

He pulled on a black coat and made his way downstairs. Fenrir was seated in the living room, dressed in one of his finest bespoke suits. He stumbled to his feet at the sight of him and the look of utter bewilderment on his face was gorgeous. He didn't voice his desire, but Harry pulled off the coat nonetheless to give him a view of what he was wearing.

He'd gone for roman slave girl. A short white tunic covered him from shoulder to upper thigh, leaving plenty of long smooth leg on show while disguising his non-existent breasts. Gold clasps at the shoulders hold the tunic in place, and his collar and cuffs are tooled leather with gold buckles. The stuff is decorative rather than functional—nothing that would ever hold if he had to jump into action.

The butter-soft leather straps of his gladiator sandals criss-crossed his lower legs, almost to his knees, and he was rather pleased with the twin blades he'd managed to secret in each of the rear straps that stretch all the way from his heels up his calves. Two twelve-inch blades. He was itching for an opportunity to use them.

The identity he was building tonight was named Karina…A Russian woman and Fenrir's most recent conquest. Everyone knew Fenrir was bisexual…His preference for boy toys was also well known but those boy toys never accompanied him to social events. As far as the perception, Fenrir preferred the company of flat chested thoroughbred women…He always had the prestige of having someone who looked like a supermodel on his arm, and he fit the bill perfectly because he usually played that part most of the time. He posed as a different woman every time. Different hair, different eyes, different face, different body…It didn't take him any effort to disguise. He didn't enjoy dressing up as a woman but it was the ideal way to divert attention from who he really was.

Whenever he accompanied Fenrir to any social event as arm candy. He acted vacant, wore expensive clothes, and if anyone talked to him, he made sure only to talk about his fictional self. He acted self-absorbed so that no one hung around him long enough to figure anything out. Fenrir's girlfriends are a beautiful bore who just wants to look pretty and acquire beautiful things.

So according to the profile, Fenrir's girlfriend's choice of outfit would be submissive-lite. Something that misses the point of a place like the club they were going to but that won't look out of place. Catwalk BDSM. Once he'd got that vision in his head, it didn't take him long to figure something out.

All in all, it was the perfect outfit, giving an impression of feminine beauty that was nonthreatening. Submissive…

Fenrir stepped closer to carefully ran his fingers through the sleek wavy locks of the dark shoulder length wig he was wearing,

"Just when I think you can't get any more gorgeous…you prove me wrong…"

Harry grinned and winked,

"Proving everyone wrong is my favorite thing to do. You should know that about me by now."

Fenrir nodded mutely before signalling towards the door,

"Shall we get going then?"

Harry pulled the coat back on and spoke in Karina's thick, heavy Russian accent,

"Lets. I'll brief you about today's identity on the way and my plans for it."


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, maybe I'm a crook for stealing your heart away  
> And maybe I'm a crook for not caring for it  
> Yeah, maybe I'm a bad, bad, bad... bad person  
> Well, baby I know  
> And these fingertips  
> Will never run through your skin  
> And those bright blue eyes  
> Can't only meet mine across the room  
> Filled with people that are less important than you  
> 'Cause you love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When your know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love you  
> So I think it's best  
> We both forget  
> Before we dwell on it  
> The way you held me so tight  
> All through the night  
> Til it was near morning  
> 'Cause you love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love you  
> 'Cause you love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When your know I can't love  
> You love, love, love  
> When you know I can't love you
> 
>  
> 
> The track is Love, Love, Love by Monsters and Men...Do check it out....It is absolute love...

They walked out of the living room together. Dimitri was waiting at the doors with Gleb, a guy he'd recruited recently. Dimitri was a big man, but Gleb was huge. Slower-moving than Dimitri, but still a good man to have at your back if trouble arose.

Normally, the bodyguards protected Fenrir when he was In Baltimore and he usually didn't allow them to escort them except when he accompanied Fenrir to clubs and gathering, the bodyguards were there for appearances.

They shepherd them to the gleaming waiting limo. Gleb opened one of the rear doors for him, and Dimitri opened the other for Fenrir. They slid in, and Dimitri followed them into the back. Gleb got in the front, beside the driver. His heavily muscled frame filled his own side of the car and abutted the driver's space too. His big, square head was near enough brushing the car roof.

Harry spent the way briefing Fenrir on his newest identity…some of the backstory…some specifics… things that Fenrir was supposed to know about his newest arm candy if someone talked to him…But he was absolutely certain that there would be no talking involved tonight.

They stopped at a hotel, and a blonde twink in a long Prussian blue coat tottered out, flashing a huge smile at the limo. Gleb got out and opened the door for him, and he slid in.

"Hello, sir,"

He said to Fenrir reverently. He glanced at him with real curiosity gleaming in his hazel eyes. Fenrir snapped loudly,

"Eyes down, trash."

He cast his eyes downward immediately. Harry studied his fingers clasped obediently in his lap and crooked his finger at him and purred in his thick Russian accent,

"Kneel for me, Slut."

He immediately went down to his knees infront of him and Harry cupped his face and traced the lines of his face,

"You're very pretty."

The twink kept his gaze downcast. Harry extended his hand towards Fenrir and felt him place the small box on his outstretched palm. He unscrewed the lid and poured a small amount of the light purplish powder on the hollow of his palm.

"Look into my eyes."

He obeyed immediately, and Harry looked deep into his hazel eyes and then then blew the powder into his face. He blinked the substance into his eyes and sniffed through his nostrils, ensuring the trilamide seeped completely into his system. Stupid, powerless boy.

The Devil's Breath was the best of his creations. It allowed him to gain full control of his victims for several days, physically and mentally.

A few minutes ticked by, and eventually the boy's pupils dilated. His body turned limp but he was fully awake and under his control. The boy blinked up at him,

"Where am I? Who…Who are you?"

Harry caressed his cheek and purred softly,

"You're mine now."

He was about to blink when Harry struck him hard across the face,

"Hold my gaze…Don't you dare look away from me… Repeat what I say…"

His hazel eyes were glimmering with tears but he held his gaze nonetheless. Harry smoothed his fingers over the spot he'd struck him and spoke,

"You're mine now."

The boy's lips parted and he nodded quickly,

"I…I'm yours…"

Harry smirked and grinned,

"Good boy."

He traced his fingers down the boy's face and over his chest,

"Your heart is mine."

The boy swayed on his knees and Harry held him fast,

"My heart is yours."

His eyelids were beginning to droop but Harry pinched his arm to keep him aware and spoke,

"Your body is mine."

The twink nodded,

"My body…"

His voice died away as his gaze grew a little more entranced. Harry pinched him once again and the boy spoke up,

"My body is yours…"

Harry hummed in satisfaction and combed his fingers through his hair,

"Your mind is mine."

The boy nodded violently without breaking eye contact,

"My mind is yours."

Harry signalled to his feet,

"Kiss them…From today…I am your sun…your moon…and all your stars…You will worship me and whomever I wish…If I decide to hurt you then you will take the pain and consider it a blessing… If I choose to take your life, you will serve it to me on a gold platter… Have I made myself clear?"

The boy showered his sandaled feet in kisses and spoke,

"Yes…Yes…Yes…"

He gripped his hair tight and whispered,

"I am your god… Call me Master."

The boy cried out as he continued to kiss his feet,

"Master…You are my master…"

Harry kicked him away and closed the lid tight on the box before putting it away. He looked up at Fenrir who was staring at him with undisguised lust. His pupils were dilated and his breath came in quick short pants. Harry leaned back in his seat and surveyed the obvious erection tenting Fenrir's pants,

"Now that won't do, Fen…That won't do at all…"

Once again, he grabbed the boy from where he was kneeling on the limousine floor and turned his head so that he was facing Fenrir,

"You will be serving him day and night…He will own your body…ravage you…and you will let him. No one else apart from him and I are allowed to touch you… if you allow someone who is not us to lay a single finger on you, I will murder them and feed them to you…Is that understood?"

The boy nodded, and Harry pushed him roughly towards Fenrir,

"He's all yours, Fen."

Fenrir was still staring at him though and Harry tsked,

"You have your pet now…Stop staring at me like that."

He snapped his fingers and Dimitri handed him his phone. Harry scrolled through his emails and heard Fenrir issue the order,

"Suck me off."

He heard the sound of Fenrir's belt unbuckling and then the sound of his zipper which was quickly followed by the obscene wet sounds the kid made as he took Fenrir's cock all the way in and sucked on it like his life depended on it…It did…The kid was going to die if he disappointed Fenrir in any way… Soon enough the wet sounds were accompanied by Fenrir's gasps and moans. Harry looked up from his phone and his gaze instantly met Fenrir's blue one and that was Fenrir came…howling out his name.

Harry grinned and watched as Fenrir grew boneless in his seat. His heavily hooded gaze was still focused on him as he murmured something incoherent… Harry looked away from and refocused on his phone. Fenrir thought he couldn't hear him but he could read his lips…He could read his lips so well and he knew perfectly well what he'd said.

_I love you, Harry._


	82. Chapter 82

The journey didn't take long. The driver circled the block twice before they stopped. Gleb got out first and strolled up and down the quiet street a little way in each direction before he returned to open the rear passenger door and let the rest of us out. It was all of a ten-yard walk to the anonymous black door, which swung open as they approached

A handsome Asian man stood in the doorway. His thick hair was tied at the nape of his neck in a short ponytail, and he wore a neat goatee. He was of a similar build to Dimitri. A tall, well-made dark-skinned woman stood behind him, her expression impassive. The man spoke with a small respectful bow,

"Master Greyback. How good of you to join us."

Harry noticed that his accent was anonymously upper-class. The man's gaze moved to him, the boy, then to each of the goons, assessing us before he stood aside and waved a welcoming arm,

"Please come in."

Fenrir—who has in his arrogant, powerful persona—didn't say anything in response, just gave a curt nod and strode toward the inner door that the dark-skinned woman was now holding open. She didn't look at them as they passed through. The boy and Dimitri and him followed in his wake while Gleb returned to the car.

Harry murmured a thank you in his Russian accent, keeping up his preteens of Fenrir's submissive, to the Asian man as he passed and caught a glimmer of something in his eyes. It was a speculative sort of look, but he fancied there was a distant echo of pity in there.

He followed Fenrir through the inner doors to another larger room, aglow with soft, muted lighting; there were several plush couches and low tables and a small bar situated off to the side. Behind it, a young man stood waiting, hands behind his back.

A woman in a skin-tight carmine dress with absurdly high stiletto heels stepped forward to greet them and took their coats. The boy shrugged his off to reveal an outfit composed almost entirely of straps and hooks. His genitals and ass were exposed for all to see. It made his slave-girl ensemble look like a nun's habit.

Fenrir grinned at the hostess,

"Sometimes one is not enough."

She didn't blink an eye, just asked Fenrir…she was careful to address him, not his underlings…whether they'd like some champagne. Fenrir asked irritably,

"My suite is not yet ready?"

The woman murmured that she was sure it must be, but she was just going to verify it. And perhaps they'd like a glass of champagne while they waited? She signalled to the barman, who sprung into action, removing a bottle of really rather decent bubbly from a fridge. He started peeling off the foil.

Something felt off.

Fenrir looks at him and the boy, then pointed at a sofa,

"Sit."

Harry didn't miss the 'please' Fenrir uttered with his eyes when he looked at him and he sat down with the boy, though he looked at Dimitri and signalled with his eyes where he wanted him. Obedient to his order, he retreated to the back wall, halfway between the door they'd entered through and the one that lead, he assumed, to the play areas.

The barman unscrewed the wire top and uncorked the champagne with a discreet pop. He filled two glasses, pouring slowly and carefully to retain the bubbles.

Harry kept his expression passive and bored, but his brain was ticking, ticking. Something was definitely wrong here.

It wasn't just the holdup… though that was strange, given how wealthy Fenrir was and how professional this place looked. No, it was something more. His thoughts kept going back to the dark-skinned woman who'd held open the door. The way she'd avoided their eyes. He'd glossed over it as they'd walked in, but it had registered with him. A flash of something, something hidden, something out of place. What?

The barman brought the champagne on a silver tray. Fenrir took one, and he got the other. Nothing for the boy. He smiled at the barman briefly when he lifted his glass and asked in his heavily accented voice,

"What seems to be the holdup?"

Harry could tell from his expression that he didn't know…Harry didn't expect him to, but he wondered whether he found the delay unusual. Hard to tell. The hostess returned. Her smile was too easy.

Could this be a trap?

Fenrir spoke,

"You are pouting, Karina."

Harry knew he was picking up on his apprehension but he couldn't tell him anything at the moment. He batted his lashes and ignored him. His senses were pinging. Something was definitely up. Dimitri and Gleb had supposedly checked this place out, but they didn't catch everything, especially when there was a hint of sex in the air; they may have been more interested in the club-goers than the club.

He stood and went to Dimitri with a flirty smile and pressed a taunting finger on his chest. They were pretty much eye to eye, height-wise. He whispered

"How thoroughly did you go through this place?"

He spoke nervously,

"Very thoroughly."

Harry kept his expressions flirtatious,

"And your check on the owner? I assume you ran a full check."

Dimitri spoke,

"He has a large reputation for kink. Well known. Discreet."

No, then…

He muttered,

"A large reputation for kink."

Had that been enough to satisfy them? Harry ground out,

"Cameras?"

Dimitri shook his head,

"None in the suite. We swept it with the 471. It's clean…This I promise."

Harry pursed his lips together,

"Mmm."

He trusted the 471, but he didn't trust Dimitri and Gleb. Dimitri was lazy, Gleb stupid. He demanded in a quiet whisper,

"Floor plan?"

Dimitri replied quickly,

"On file."

He saw Fenrir coming towards them out of the corner of his eye and bit out,

"Send it to me ASAP."

He turned and smiled at Fenrir who spoke,

"Our room is waiting, Karina. Are you ready for our fun?"

Harry hand his untouched glass to Dimitri so that he could remove his fingerprints from it and allowed Fenrir to guide them forward, his hand at his elbow. They walked side by side and the boy followed in their wake, his hands already secured behind his back.

They were ushered into a posh room, something like a cross between a dungeon and a gothic living room with black leather seating and wrought-iron lamps that cast a cadmium red glow on the room. It was dark…gloomy…The only thing that could make it better was blood and screams…

He snapped back to reality as the door shut. Fenrir wasted no time ordering his pet to his knees in the corner.

He glanced around the room, getting his bearings before he placed two jammers by the door. There was equipment and accoutrements aplenty: crops and floggers were displayed in neat rows on the back wall next to a St. Andrew's Cross and another, simpler whipping post. Selections of dildoes, gags, weights, and clamps were laid out on red lacquer trays. He picked up a wide blindfold and handed it to Fenrir. He said,

"For your pet."

Fenrir smirked as he took it from his hand and tied it around the pet's eyes.

He pulled his phone out from Fenrir's pocket. Dimitri had sent the floor plan. He pulled it up and studied it for a couple of minutes, ignoring Fenrir and the pet who were already getting into their groove, Fenrir muttering obscenities as he ran his hands over his trussed-up body.

He walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting the paint and the mouldings, the pattern on the rugs. His attention was drawn to a vertical display case with another selection of whips. It seemed superfluous, given the wall display. He pushed on it gently.

It moved slightly. Too much to be a regular section of wall. He felt around behind the case and found the catch… very carefully hidden. A door… one that wasn't on the floor plan.

He turned back to Fenrir, just in time to watch him deliver a vicious open-handed slap to the boy… so hard, it sent him to the floor. He lay there, panting. Harry was certain he'd be fine.

Even though he'd trusted the jammers he'd placed, he still kept up his accent and spoke,

"Darling…"

Fenrir looked up at him and Harry noticed the question in his eyes. He never called him Darling…not in usual circumstances…It was his codeword to relay that there was trouble. Fenrir spoke,

"My sweet?"

He spoke,

"I'm just going to sit here quietly and watch you do your magic."

Even as he was simpering the words, he was miming his true intentions to him, showing him the secret door. He mimed going in, and Fenrir instantly tensed with concern. Harry watched him shake his head and Harry set his jaw to convey that Fenrir could not deter him. Finally, Fenrir's shoulders slumped in defeat,

"Of course… This time you should just watch, Karina."

He turned back to the open door, pulling his Luger from under his tunic. He stepped through. He was in a tunnel. Muted floor lights, the type that illuminated an airplane aisle at night, ran in either direction, but they were few and far between, leaving plenty of shadows in which to hide. He turned on his phone light and flash it all around until he was satisfied that he was alone. Then he pulled the door shut and arranged himself in a shadowy nook. He slipped the blade out of his left sandal strap… that would make for a quieter kill.

My heart pounded in the darkness with the thrill of the kill that was sure to come.

It came sooner than he'd expected and it took him literally no effort to disarm the man who'd crept towards the door from one of the tunnels. He didn't outright kill him…No…That would come later…First he needed to know who he was and who he was working for and whether there were more.

He dragged the almost unconscious man back into the room and found Fenrir whipping his pet desolately. His concern was evident on his face but it vanished at the sight of him with the unconscious man and a small grin replaced it. Harry pointed towards a ball gag and a pair of leather cuffs and Fenrir brought them to him immediately. He fastened the ball gag around the man's mouth and cuffed his wrists togather before opening the mini fridge and retrieving a bottle of water from it.

He dumped half of it over the man's face who spoke up sputtering and gasping and instantly started screaming at the top of his lungs but the gag kept the ruckus to the barest minimum and Harry couldn't help but grin as he took the whip from Fenrir's hand.

Harry looked towards the pet, who was now laying slumped on his side, red stripes covered his ass and his back. He leaned closer to Fenrir and whispered in his ear,

"You need to leave, Fen. It isn't safe for you here."

Fenrir glared at the struggling man on the floor and whispered back,

"No…I am not leaving you here alone. He might not be working alone."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and spoke,

"Listen to me…. I can handle him and whoever is accompanying him, but I can't handle them if you're here."

Fenrir crossed his arms over his chest,

"I'm not exactly a damsel in distress."

Harry snorted softly as he cupped Fenrir's face,

"You are to me… I consider it my responsibility to look after you…. So let me look after you…Not that I need your permission…"

Fenrir stared into his eyes before sighing,

"Fine…But I'm leaving Dimitri and Gleb with you."

Harry shook his head,

"No…I don't need them. I'm going to call Andrew. I'll need someone to clean up the mess when I'm done."

Fenrir finally smiled,

"At least you'll get to enjoy yourself."

Harry nodded quietly and watched as Fenrir grabbed the pet from his hair and raise him to his feet before hauling him out of the room. Once he was gone, he snapped a picture of the man from his phone and emailed it with a message for immediate response. Then he called Andrew and told him exactly what he needed from him and when he needed it before ending the call. He cracked the whip and turned his attention to the man,

"You're going to tell me what I need to know, or I swear I will skin you alive."

The man jutted his chin out defiantly and Harry laughed,

"I was hoping that would be your response."

He cracked the whip again but didn't hit him as his phone started ringing in his pocket. He picked up the call immediately and snapped,

"What do you have for me?"

Fred drawled from the other end,

"You sound sexy."

Harry really didn't have the patience for this and Fred seemed to have sensed that because he got straight to business,

"He's a Federal Agent. Name is Gavin Ross. George is sending his file to you as we speak."

Harry smirked,

"Any progress on that head of the new cartel?"

Fred clicked his tongue,

"Nada… But we have another lead. We might have something for you in a couple of days."

He didn't have a couple of days. The meeting was in a week and he needed to have the intel before that at any cost,

"You have six days."

He ended the call before Fred could answer and pulled up the file George had sent him.

Why was a Federal Agent after Fenrir? Was the FBI investigating them? He placed the whip on the table and scratched his chin as he paced the room restlessly. He had to have a partner somewhere or a handler…Killing him wasn't an option. He called Andrew again and cancelled his orders before kneeling down beside the agent on the floor and pulled out the box of Devil's breath from inside the hidden pocket of his tunic.

He blew a handful of it on the man's face and waited for the magic to happen. When he was sure, Gavin was underneath his influence he asked him and each and every question he could think of.

By the time, he was done, he knew that Gavin was here alone. His handler would be waiting to hear from him by tomorrow and they were indeed investigating Fenrir for his drug trade. Gavin also told him that they'd been receiving anonymous tips from someone and they'd been operating on those tips. The club owner had allowed the FBI to operate here in exchange for a clean slate.

At the end of his interrogation, he told Gavin to report that he'd found nothing out of place to his handler and then kill himself by the end of the week. When Gavin was gone, he rose to his feet, rearranged his dress and fixed his makeup before removing the jammers and heading out of the room.

There was too much to do and too little time. The fact that someone had been tipping the FBI off meant that they had a rat amongst them or an outsider who knew too much about them. Whichever it was, he was going to find them, and he would surely make them wish they were dead. He was also going to deal with the owner of this club very personally and teach him exactly what happened to people who crossed him wrong but that would have to wait. His first priority was to switch accounts and secure their wealth. The entire money trail would have to re-calibrated and all their funds would have to be rerouted. Along with that, they would have to relocate all their warehouses and move their merchandise as soon as possible.

It was true what they said…. There truly was no rest for the wicked.


	83. Chapter 83

Harry kicked the door to the office open and marched inside angrily with Andrew in tow,

"Close the damned door."

Andrew closed the door and Harry ripped his wig off along with the prosthetics he had on before wiping away the makeup with a wad of tissues he'd hastily grabbed off the desk. He plucked off the fake eyelashes, took out the contacts and replaced them with his glasses before stripping out of the dress.

Andrew was leaning against the door as he tapped away on his tablet. He made his way to the bathroom and splashed some water over his face before looking at his reflection. His cheeks were flushed with the rage that was steadily simmering inside him. His emerald eyes were alight with it. He rested his hands on the basin and closed his eyes as he thought about the best way to proceed from here.

They might have a rat in their midst and he had to flush him out before the meeting. Everyone was a suspect at this point and suspect number one would be Andrew, but Harry personally kept track of Andrew's phone calls and movements so the chances of him being involved in this were nearly negligible.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed his damp hair off his forehead and grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt from the small closet next to the bathroom. It took him less than a second to change and when he was done, he finally settled down behind the desk and turned on his laptop before getting to work.

Sometime during the night, Andrew had settled down on the seat opposite him as he made all the necessary calls while Harry had worked on their offshore accounts and handled all their financial matters.

The office was flooded with light when Harry heard the door open. He'd retrieved the gun from underneath the desk and had it aimed at the doorway until he realized that it was Fenrir standing in the doorway and lowered it,

"What are you doing here, Fen?"

Fenrir crossed his arms over his chest,

"You've been up all night, Harry."

Harry turned his attention away from Fenrir and back to the laptop,

"I've never needed much sleep."

Fenrir stepped inside the office and closed the door behind him,

"Andrew you can leave now…Get some rest."

Harry clicked his tongue and spoke calmly,

"You're not going anywhere until this mess is sorted out."

Andrew sighed barely audibly before picking up his tablet again. Harry felt Fenrir come and stand behind him before resting his warm hands on his shoulders,

"Harry, stop…You need to rest…"

He leaned back in his seat and felt Fenrir rub his shoulders in a soothing manner,

"I can't rest…The FBI is investigating you."

Fenrir's hands went still, and he whispered,

"Are you sure?"

Harry shrugged his hands off his shoulders and rose to his feet before turning around to face Fenrir,

"There is no doubt about it."

Fenrir stepped closer to him and spoke,

"I assume you already have a plan."

Harry nodded silently, and Fenrir smiled,

"Then why are you so worried?"

Harry turned his attention to the window that gave the perfect view of the cityscape,

"We might have a spy operating from within our organization… Agent Ross was kind enough to tell me that the FBI had been receiving anonymous tips about your whereabouts and activities and they were operating on said tips."

Harry stepped closer to the window and rested both his palms on the glass,

"We need to find him before the meeting."

He felt Fenrir hesitantly wrap an arm around his waist and felt his warm forehead against his nape,

"If a spy exists then we will find him."

Harry laughed softly and turned back around to face Fenrir,

"Oh, we definitely will… I have no doubt about that… My primary concern at the moment is the FBI and how we're going to derail their investigation."

Fenrir grinned,

"I already know that whatever you have in mind will be brilliant."

Harry smirked as he traced Fenrir's cheekbone,

"You know me so well."

He proceeded to explain his plan to Fenrir and Andrew. By the time he was done, Fenrir's grin was wider than it had been before,

"Is it already underway?"

Harry nodded silently,

"I've already planted the false intel and have all our employees under surveillance. Let's see who takes the bait."

Fenrir clapped his hands together,

"That's excellent. Now all we have to do is wait."

Harry shook his head,

"No, I was just transferring our funds to another offshore account."

Fenrir sighed,

"Harry, you've done enough. Our security is already impenetrable…You've made sure of that."

Harry returned to his seat,

"No…That's where you're wrong… Nothing is ever fool-proof and people who believe otherwise are the ones who get themselves ruined or killed."

Harry began tapping away on the keyboard again and heard Fenrir settle down beside Andrew,

"You seem bothered, Harry."

Bothered…He wasn't just bothered…He was outright outraged. Fenrir added,

"You've been restless ever since you took that call yesterday morning."

Harry's fingers involuntarily halted over the keyboard as he stared intently at the screen while that velvety smooth yet sharp voice played once more inside his head,

"No…You're terribly mistaken, Fen."

He looked up and his gaze collided with Fenrir's without meaning to and he saw that he didn't believe him for a second and Harry cursed his own carelessness. If his restlessness had shown on his face or his demeanor than maybe he wasn't as good of a actor as he considered himself to be.

"Did they say something to you?"

Harry slammed his hands down on the desk hard as he rose to his feet,

"Can we not discuss that call? The meeting is taking place in six days. You're getting what you wanted, Fen. Now leave before I lose my patience."

Fenrir rose to his feet and left the room without another word. Harry settled back in his seat and went straight back to work. A few minutes passed in silence before Andrew spoke up,

"You know he only cares about you."

Harry spoke without looking away from the screen,

"I know…I only care about him too."

Andrew snorted but said nothing in reply.


	84. Chapter 84

 

 

 

Harry tapped his fingers on his jean clad thigh impatiently as he sat in the back of the SUV and waited. He didn't have the time for this since the meeting was taking place tomorrow but it was as important as anything else and he needed to get this out of the way so he could focus on tomorrow.

So far, the twins had found nothing on the identity of the mystery man on the phone…His own inquiries and searches had returned blank as well, so it was a constant frustration that was just rubbing him in all sorts of wrong ways.

He was dressed up in black jeans and a forest green t-shirt underneath a camo jacket and had his black combat boots on. Intimidating… That's what he wanted to seem like today…

Finally, the door was pulled open and Harry picked up his aviators from the car seat beside him and put them on,

"Took you long enough."

Mark bowed his head as he stepped out of the car,

"My apologies, Sir."

Harry surveyed his surroundings. He'd ordered this training course to be created two years ago when he'd felt that they needed a paramilitary force for their operations. There were obstacle courses along the sides of the building, and the scuffs bore evidence to the fact that this was where the men learned to scale walls and rappel down them. A well-worn track in the dirt marked where trainees ran and marched.

The trainees themselves were assembled in three neat rows and Harry strode towards them and came to a halt front of them. They all saluted him in perfect coordination and Harry was pleased. He visited the facility personally every once in a while, to ensure that everything was running as it should. Mark was the commander and he was solely in charge of overseeing the training of the men. He handled the recruitment personally though and didn't trust anyone with it,

"At ease, Men."

He walked through the rows, surveying each and every man closely. He loved making them sweat and that was exactly what was happening right now. They knew he was in charge. He was very certain, Mark had warned them before his visit and told him all the previous tales regarding his past encounters with previous men. They feared him and that was exactly what he wanted….But they didn't fear him as much as he required them to…Yet… He could see their doubts…He could see that they were underestimating him because of his lean and slim frame, his pretty face, his silken hair… It wasn't unwarranted though and that was exactly why he was here…To clear their doubts…

He poked his finger in the chest of the bulkiest man of the entire batch and spoke,

"You'll do."

The man looked at him in bewilderment and Harry turned away from him and started walking towards the hand to hand combat training building. He could already feel his blood singing in his veins with the rush of excitement at the oncoming fight. He hadn't had a kill in days and it was starting to take its toll on him… Of course, he wasn't going to kill this guy. The fight was merely an exhibition of his skills and why the men should fear him all the more…. But tonight, he would have to go hunting.

Harry gave Mark and the nameless hulk he'd selected for the fight the time to get suitably prepared and made his way to the armoury. It was his favorite place in the entire complex and it had been reinforced with Plexiglas windows and steel rollup doors that could be dropped at a moment's notice. Beyond the glass, Harry saw Greg, his head of security at the complex, in a brown tank top and camouflage pants, sitting with his combat boots on the desk beside a state-of-the-art computer, and he was peering at something on a clipboard that rested on his thighs. He saw him through the glass and immediately rose to his feet before saluting him. Harry replied to his salute with a slight nod of his head. Behind Greg were three parallel aisles, each lined with diamond plate cabinets, and every one of those cabinets had a keypad. He inspected the locks… all of them… before making his way back upstairs…He would come down here later and shoot a few rounds if he felt up to it.

* * *

He was standing at the top level, looking over the rail at the sparring mats spread out on the floor below. He knew Harry would be coming here even though he hadn't told him. But this was something he wouldn't miss for the world. Watching Harry spar was a treat in itself. The way he moved was almost hypnotic and utterly mesmerizing. The control Harry had over his body was awe inspiring.

Mark walked in through the doors followed by the line of trainees. His stomach flipped excitedly. It was going to start. Mark pulled a bulky man to the center and began wrapping tape around his knuckles, while the rest of the trainees formed a circle. This wasn't the first time he was watching Harry spar. Over the years, he'd seen most of his moves but even now, Harry always managed to surprise him.

The trainees were all chatting excitedly, but a thick impenetrable silence fell as Harry stepped in through the doors. The power and the air of authority he exuded filled the room and stole his and everyone else's breath away. He was gorgeous…absolutely gorgeous… Harry pulled off his jacket and his aviators and handed them to Mark before moving to the center of the circle where the bulky man stood,

"I am sure, Mark has informed you about what is about to happen here?"

Harry's powerful voice echoed around the hall, magnifying it, making it seem more authoritative. The man nodded silently, and Harry's lips quirked up in a grin,

"Good."

The man stared pointedly at Harry's bare fists and he resisted the urge to snort loudly. Harry never used tape or any other protective gear when he was sparring. He even avoided it in real life-threatening situations and that was one of the main reason, he worried so much about him when he was away in Baltimore and risking his life needlessly. Sure enough, Harry spoke up,

"Don't worry about me, Sweetheart."

Harry widened his stance and raised his fists up and the man hurriedly followed his lead. Harry's cool confidence was reflected in his stance. He was irresistible. How could anyone ever hope to compete with that? No one could… There was absolutely no one in this entire world that could be as remarkable as Harry was.

As if to snap him out of his thoughts, the bulky guy grabbed for Harry and even from here, he could tell he held back. But in the blink of an eye, Harry easily dodged his large grasping hands. The guy reached again and Harry slipped away, moving like a jackrabbit on crack. Harry giggled, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. The guy reached a third time, aiming wider to catch Harry. But this time, Harry didn't try to dodge. He delivered one lightning-quick hit to the center of the guy's chest before grabbing his left wrist. Harry twisted around and dropped to his knees, pulling the guy's arm over his shoulder. The quick hit and sudden movement pulled the guy completely off-balance, sending him flying head over feet to land with a heavy thump on the mats. The guy didn't move for a breath, looking utterly stunned that someone who looked as delicate as Harry had bested him so simply. Harry—never one to miss an opportunity—straddled the guy, his hands braced on the other man's massive shoulders.

"Poor Sven,"

Dimitri muttered from behind him as they watched the big guy just lie there. The way Harry was perched on the man's groin made his insides burn up. The trainees surrounding Harry and the guy were clapping politely but the mixture of shock and fear on their faces was just as apparent. Harry hadn't even tried, and everyone knew that. He could have broken the guy's arm or ripped it clean off. He'd witnessed his strength when he'd been in the mood to cause serious destruction and harm.

The way Harry was perched on the guy's groin though made his insides burn up with jealousy and he wanted to rip the guy from limb to limb. He found it easier to breathe when Harry rose to his feet and spoke up,

"The most important lesson that you should have learned from this is to never underestimate your opponent…No matter how weak he might seem."

The trainees all spoke together,

"Yes, Sir."

Harry dismissed them all before turning around and looking up at him and smirking,

"I hope you enjoyed the show, Fen."

He couldn't help but smile as well and spoke up,

"You were as amazing as always."


	85. Chapter 85

The limo slowed down behind a row of other limos, edging up the rain-slicked street. Lights bleared in the rain-spattered window as he neared a palace of a place on Central Park.

The Hayley Street Club.

The place was all gray stone steps and pillars with a red carpet clear out to the sidewalk, even in the rain. He'd observed it very thoroughly before arriving here and knew the floor plan by heart. Ballroom on the first floor, rooms on the three stories above. Tonight, was very important in a lot of ways. He would finally be making the deal that would put him back at the top. On top of that, he would finally meet the elusive Mr. J. He would be lying if he said that the man didn't intrigue. Very few people managed that…In fact there was only one other person that had every intrigued him.

The driver opened the door and pulled out the umbrella and ushered him and his so-called date and full time assistant up the carpeted path. They reached the red canopy and he put out his arms and let the door jockeys do their thing, then he took Bellatrix's arm and they walked in.

The place had a lot of lights and flash and high ceilings for his liking. People dressed in their best. This event was billed as a charity ball, ten grand a pop…It was neutral ground.

Nobody lived in the Hayley Street Club; it was the holding of some international conglomerate with its fingers in logistics and weapons and chemicals. The logo was carved into an ice sculpture in the middle of the room.

The overwhelming scent of expensive perfumes and colognes intermingled and impaired his sense of smell. He swiped champagne off a tray and Bella got sparkling water. They moved around the room, talking about nothing. Easy, relaxed. It wouldn't do to look for Greyback yet.

Greyback's fabled partner…Mr. J was here somewhere, too. He socialized with the guests, made small talk with the elite as he scoured the hall. Halfway around the hall, he stopped. It was a pretty good position. Backs to the wall. Good sightlines.

He caught Bellatrix eyeing his black shirt and he raised a brow at her,

"Do you wish to say something?"

She lowered her gaze and murmured barely audibly,

"No, My Lord."

And then she spoke up,

"Isn't this lovely? And such a good cause."

She was in character, partly for the benefit of the people around who might overhear. And partly for his benefit. She talked about the little bites the waiters were bringing around on their trays, telling him which ones she thought she liked, then she was on to the champagne… French, she thought. What she was really up to was giving him a chance to get a better look at the hall. He didn't have to talk while she was going on. It was helpful.

He sweeped his gaze lightly around, taking in all the furs and jewels.

And then he saw him.

Greyback was he man large, well built, with a lined face. His hair was grey streaked, and he had vivid blue eyes. He was dressed to the nines in a black bespoke tuxedo. He stood at one of the bars with a bored-looking dark haired woman on his right arm. He was having a serious-looking conversation with a group of three men to his left. The woman on his arm was long and lean. Her dark curls cascaded down her back and there was something classically beautiful about her face.

Bella was watching his eyes. He glanced at the dark-haired woman,

"What do we know about her?"

She followed the line of his gaze,

"Calls herself Karina Petrov. She's his latest conquest. He's got her all set up… nice apartment, nice car.  _Very_  nice credit card. She likes to shop."

He raised his flute to his lips and took a small lip. He tasted nothing,

"She doesn't do anything else?"

Bella shrugged,

"Doesn't seem to."

He pulled the flute away from his lips and inquired,

"What's her history?"

Another shrug,

"Failed Russian model. Avery says she checks out."

Another man walked up. Dark hair, muscular neck… a martial artist,

"Is he somebody we should know about?"

Bella shook her head ever so slightly,

"Low-level bodyguard."

He watched Greyback's movements very carefully. Greyback's shoulders were relaxed and despite the seemingly serious nature of the conversation he was having, he smiled every once in a while, and his eyes warmed up whenever he looked at his girlfriend. He knew Greyback's history. He never kept a woman or twink around long. They always wound up dead or worse. But that history didn't quite fit in with what he was witnessing. It was so blatantly obvious that Greyback held some sort of special affection for Karina. But it could all be for show. Werewolves were always sharper than they looked, and they were far more cunning.

Just at that moment, the woman returned his gaze.

More than returned it… She gave him a look that went to his gut. Sapphire blue eyes feathered with lush lashes. But that one look was enough for him ascertain that she was no songbird. She was pure bird of prey.


	86. Chapter 86

When he saw him, it was as if space and time became the finest point imaginable… as if time collapsed into one tiny speck and exploded at light speed. It was as if his universe began and ended with him. He could run forever, hide forever, but in the end, every path lead him right back to him.

He hadn't aged a day since he had seen him all those years ago…If anything, he looked younger…more youthful. His cheeks were rosy red and his lips…They were plump and sinful. Harry could recall their taste in vivid detail when he'd kissed them…claimed them as his… He could remember the texture of his dark hair…the softness of his skin underneath his fingertips, when he'd touched him. He heard every word he'd spoken to him when he'd been asleep. He recalled the disappointment that had driven him to tears when he'd failed. He remembered his own insane urge to see Tom's eyes and hear his voice…

From where he stood, he saw that Tom's eyes were a soft brown...It was so…so average…so common and somehow the colour didn't fit in with his aristocratic features…But his voice…It was so easy to connect that voice with Tom now…He could almost hear it inside his head again as he read Tom's lips.

Tom was standing there, deep in conversation with a woman with dark eyes and jet-black curls that cascaded down her pale shoulders. She was dressed in a black gown that hugged her waist and emphasized her physique. The conversation he was having with his assistant…That was the only way to describe their relationship from what he gathered was mostly centered on Greyback and their surroundings. As much as he was glad and relieved to see Tom in the open again…He was an adversary at the moment…They were here to sign a deal with them…. A deal that he didn't approve of from day one and had no intention of signing. Tom was going to have to face disappointment tonight.

Harry tightened his hold on his champagne glass and ensured that his face betrayed nothing of what he was feeling inside. He needed to be sharp…sharper than he'd ever been before.

But all thought evaporated from his mind when Tom looked at him. It was as if every ounce of breath was taken from his lungs floating into the air like midnight smoke. It took him everything…all the will power he had inside him to turn his gaze away from him and turn his focus to Fenrir who was inquiring about the security arrangement from Dimitri and Gleb. Apparently satisfied, he turned his attention to him and inquired softly,

"What is it, Karina? What are you looking at?"

Harry's gaze shifted back to where he'd spotted Tom and realized that he'd vanished. Fenrir pressed,

"Do you see something?"

Harry shook his head and sniffed,

"Yes,  _bublik,_ A lot of last year's gowns. They're burning my retinas."

He was getting antsy, so he turned to bat his eyelashes at Fenrir and told him he was going to powder his nose. He nodded. Fenrir knew that meant he was going to walk the route, check that it was clear, while he stayed with his other guards. He headed toward the ladies', then slipped off through a service door, taking the stairs to the third floor.

Once there, he made his way down the ornate hallway with its lush Axminster carpeting, senses on high alert.

It was quiet and still. No one was around. He paused outside the room where the meet was to happen, listening, then went inside and did a quick sweep.

He wondered whether the FBI had been tipped off about his meet. He wasn't willing to ignore the possibility that they might barge in again. His head told him that everything was clear… He'd personally checked and triple-checked this location and every inch of it—but there was still a niggle in his gut. He examined the sightlines again, the terrain outside.

Dima, one of the other bodyguards, arrived and Harry asked him what he thought about the man in black. Dima turned his dark flat gaze on him,

"Man in black?"

As though he hadn't even noticed him. Mikhail another guard walked up to him and spoke,

"Everything's clear, Boss. Will the deal still happen?"

Harry ran his gaze around the room one more time and spoke,

"Yes…It will."

Dima waved his hand at one corner of the room, then another, and then he pulled out his phone and looked to ensure the motion was captured. There was recording equipment in the flowers. This meet didn't need to be documented, but that was irrelevant. They always got clips of everything. because there's always a chance they'll trap a man doing something he shouldn't.

There was a balcony off the room overlooking the street below. The balcony was mainly decorative, a place to wave from but not to sit on. The two stories below are sheer stone face—very difficult to scale. And he couldn't imagine anybody getting through their gauntlet of security.

He made sure the concealed rope ladder wasn't tangled and then coiled it back up. It was one of two emergency escape routes.

He walked back inside and opened the side door that lead into the adjoining room. It only opened from their side. That was the other escape route, and besides that, everything was wired. Alarms would sound if anyone opened a door they shouldn't.

All in all, this would be a terrible place to try to strike. A death trap. If he were an FBI agent or a hitman, he'd turn around, wait for a better chance.

Even so, he forced himself to consider what other options there were. He thought of Tom again, and his pulse raced. Was he the one being played now?

Dima was watching his face and spoke,

"Should we call this off now, Boss."

Harry shook his head again,

"No…The meet will happen."

The meet was inevitable because he needed to know what Tom was playing at. He needed to know what his future plans were and if they would be interfering with their business. That would be a shame…He really didn't want to go to war against Tom. But if it came to that…He wouldn't back down. He would win.

Dima didn't look assured,

"I'll handle it… If anyone gets in who isn't supposed to be in this room… I will handle them."

Dima nodded and left. Harry walked to the only mirror in the room…freshened up his lipstick and makeup and strolled out of the room with his Karina persona firmly in place


	87. Chapter 87

Greyback’s girlfriend stalked out of the room like a tigress and he noticed the way Greyback got antsy as soon as she was out of his sight. He looked at the doors a whole lot, his eyes flitting. Was it her that had got him all bothered? Didn’t he like her off on her own? Or was it the upcoming meeting?

Now that they’d gotten a bead on Greyback, they made the rounds. Bella introduced him to some of the movers and shakers in logistics. They would need all the contacts they could make at this point.

He felt the moment Greyback’s girlfriend got back. He felt her on his skin. He felt her in the air… in the crackle of it. The room seemed darker… The atmosphere heavier….

He felt her move behind him, walking gracefully across the room. He knew when she was back on Greyback’s arm, and the need to turn and just look at her was something powerful.

He was not one for games. If he wanted to look at a person, he looked at a person. But he had work to do tonight,

“She’s somebody,”

He muttered to Bella as they left the group of corporate bankers behind them.

She drew her dark brows together,

“Who?”  

He smoothed his hand over the lapel of his jacket,

“Greyback’s woman.”

Bella’s gaze moved over her shoulder,

“The model?” What are you thinking?”

He rubbed his chin,

“I have a gut feeling.”

After a pause, she gave a one-shouldered shrug,

“She’s a gold digger. Could be a few layers there that Avery didn’t get.”

He shook his head. His gut feeling was never wrong, and all his instincts were screaming at him that she was no ordinary woman,

“No…There’s something more.”

Bella insisted,

“We’d know if she was somebody.”

He just couldn’t pin point what it was about her but there was something. Bella finally spoke,

“Right. What is she, the  _muscle_? Does she sic a little handbag-rat-dog on anyone she suspects?”

She laughed, making little claws with her hands,

“Rarrarrrarr.”

He grinned at the image that came to mind and shook his head,

“No, not that.”

If she wasn’t muscle, she might be the brains. To be honest, her looks were so distracting it was difficult to imagine what she might be. Long wavy hair that were darker than the darkest night, white silk gown that clung to her lean frame. Fierce beautiful features. He pictured the sharp swoop of her cheek up to her cheekbone. Secrets in her eyes. Lashes like dark wings.

Karina

There was that grace to her and it was no regular kind of grace. It was a predator’s grace. Fierce, swooping grace. The kind of grace that had teeth and talons.

* * *

 

Tom had demanded that there be no muscle present, but arm candy didn’t count, so he was there, standing around and acting bored. There were four of them in the room—Him and Greyback, Tom and his assistant.  

The room was charged thick with tension. Harry could feel it in his bones but it no longer had an effect on him. Tom was just another adversary that he had to defeat. He was just another player in the game and nothing more.  

 Fenrir was just beginning to warm up when his wandering gaze snagged on an ultraslim wire leading from the signal node to the balcony door. The wire was crooked. Just by a hair, but it was enough to set his heart pounding.

Their tech guy, Vlastov, was too OCD ever to let a wire not run perfectly along the line of the skirting board. He’d personally had to drag him out of places to stop his perfectionistic fussing.

This was not his work.

He should’ve noticed it earlier, when he’d done the final sweep… before Fenrir was allowed to enter the room. He wasn’t on his game…too much obsessing over Tom… Damn…

If the wire had been tampered with, they had probably cut the alarm.

As soon as he had that thought, the whole plan came together in his mind, and it was shocking in its simplicity. The FBI was in the next room. Waiting. They’ll grab Greyback, and then what? Wade out through gunfire?

That wouldn’t be a normal FBI operation, but he couldn’t see how else they could do it. And whatever it lacked in cleverness, it made up for in chutzpah, that was for sure.

Because it was suicide…plain and simple…

Why? Why would a person do this? What was in it for him?

Unless it wasn’t the FBI…

His senses tingled and he felt Tom’s gaze hot over his skin… burning through it…It was almost like a physical touch, sending shivers down his spine and it was taking everything he had in him to keep his bored expression in place.

He hadn’t felt this...hell, he didn’t know… Exhilarated?  Intrigued? in ages. He told himself that it was just the excitement of a new play in an old game, but he was lying to himself. This exhilaration had everything to do with Tom’s return.

Tom’s cut glass voice was sharp as he spoke,

“So…I believe we are here to conduct a deal…Shall we get on with it without further ado?”

As much as Harry wanted to intervene…he couldn’t…not without blowing his cover so he drawled in his thick Russian accent,

“Men…Always talking about their business…”

He leaned forward and pressed a kissed to Fenrir’s lips in which he breathed softly,

“This is a setup. I’m going out and sending Dima in.”

Fenrir nodded imperceptibly and Harry pulled away from him before strolling out of the room. He sent Dima inside the room to have it evacuated as quietly as possible and slipped into another room as he waited for Dima to carry out his order.

He wrench out his Luger, which was strapped to his thigh. Dima called him and gave him the update and only then did Harry step out of the room and made his way back to wait for their mystery attacker. Sure enough, there was a loud thump on the door of the next room, and an instant later, a man burst in, shoulder first, blade in hand.

His advantage was fleeting. He saw it in the widening of his eyes, in the tell tale check of a powerful arm arcing towards him. He was too much of a gentleman to disarm a woman… even one who was currently pointing a gun at him.

He took full advantage of his hesitation and got his arm in a lock, pushed his face to the wall, and shoved the cold, hard barrel of the Luger up behind his ear. That’s when he saw the earpiece. He pulled it out and crushed it under his Jimmy Choo’s before murmuring,

“Drop the knife, Darling,”

The blade clattered to the floor and he inquired,

“Looking for somebody?”

Three other weapons joined his, all pointed at the man’s head. Harry tsked and the weapons were lowered. They knew he was more than capable of handling the guy,

“Scope out the building…He might not be working alone…”

The men filed out and Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to the man’s ear,

“You and I are going to have a little tête-à-tête about who you’re working for and how rude it is to barge into other people’s business.”

 

 


	88. Chapter 88

Harry was just grimacing at his scarlet stained gown when Dimitri spoke up,

"Master Greyback has been calling you non-stop for the past one hour, Boss."

Harry sighed at his reflection in the mirror and spoke,

"Did he reach home safely?"

Dimitri nodded,

"Yes…Walter contacted me a while ago."

Harry turned around and wiped his bloody hands on the front of Dimitri's suit jacket before taking the ringing phone from his hand and snapping,

"What is it, Fenrir? You know I don't like being disturbed when I'm working."

Fenrir made a dissatisfied sound and then spoke,

"Lord Voldemort called an hour ago."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. He found it extremely hilarious that Tom was still parading around with that ridiculous anagram,

"What did he want?"

Fenrir was silent a moment before he spoke,

"He wants to meet again to finalize the deal."

This time Harry did snort,

"Tell him no…We are not dealing with them."

Fenrir burst out in disbelief,

"No? But why?"

Harry stepped over the skinned corpse and walked towards the other side of the room,

"I am not discussing this with you over the phone… That man is pure trouble and we will not have anything to do with him or his cartel."

Fenrir sounded like he was about argue so Harry ended the call and powered off the phone before tossing it to Mikhail,

"Get this mess cleaned up."

Mikhail, Dimitri and Gleb saluted him together before getting to work. He pulled on a long black overcoat that concealed his soiled dress from view and strode out of the room.

The driver was holding the door to the Black SUV open for him and he got in without a moment's delay. The door was closed as the driver rushed into the driver's seat and they were off. Harry ordered the driver to turn up the AC before leaning back in the seat and taking a deep breath. He eased his feet out of the heels and sighed out in relief.

He still had to deal with Fenrir when he got home, and he was not looking forward to it at all. Fenrir was hell bent on making this deal happen and convincing him otherwise was going to be no small feat.

They zig zagged their way through the city to ensure that they weren't tailed before the car came to a halt outside the driveway of the Villa. Anton rushed to open the door and Harry stepped out of the car and made his up the driveway barefoot.

He found Fenrir pacing the living room furiously and spoke nonchalantly as he shrugged out of his coat,

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

Fenrir advanced towards him and spoke,

"Explain to me why we can't make this deal?"

Harry sat down on the couch and raised an eyebrow,

"Why don't you explain to me why you're so nervous about saying no to him?"

Fenrir threw his hands up and growled out in frustration,

"You have no bloody idea, who that man is… He is Lord Voldemort… The most powerful wizard and magical creature to ever exist…"

Harry knew all about who Tom was…His childhood, his youth… He was willing to bet that he was the only person alive who knew his real name and his past but right now he had to feign ignorance,

"Oh really? And if he's so mighty and powerful then where was he all these years?"

Fenrir sat down beside him and spoke,

"He was rumoured to be dead… I don't know how he came back from the grave…"

Harry reached forward and traced the lines of Fenrir's face. He knew exactly how Tom had came back from the grave…He'd been the one to pull him out…

"You mentioned that he's a magical creature…"

Fenrir nodded distractedly,

"He's a vampire."

Harry caressed Fenrir's cheek and spoke,

"You are stressing out over nothing. Get some rest, Fen. I will deal with this myself."

Fenrir held his hand and spoke,

"No… I don't want you anywhere around him ever again… I wouldn't have allowed you to accompany me tonight if I'd known that he was the leader of the cartel."

Harry pulled his hand away from Fenrir's cheek and rose to his feet before demanding coolly,

"Are you insinuating that I can't deal with him?"

Fenrir remained silent. Harry leaned over him and gripped the lapels of Fenrir's jackets,

"Don't ever underestimate me, Fen."

He released him and spoke,

"This deal will not happen…Not on my watch… But if you still finalize it then know this…You and I will be going our separate ways."

He was about to walk out of the room when Fenrir grabbed a hold of his wrist,

"No, Harry… Don't say that…"

Harry wrenched his wrist out of his hold,

"I can say whatever I want, Fen. But it saddens me that after all these years you still have no faith in my abilities."

Fenrir shook his head,

"No, Harry…It's not that…"

Harry balled his hands into fists and spoke,

"What is this about then? What can Lord Voldemort possibly do to our business?"

Fenrir stepped closer to him again and cupped his face,

"To hell with the business… I just don't want you to get hurt, Harry."

Harry laughed derisively,

"You don't know me at all if you think that he can hurt me… Lord Voldemort is not capable of harming a hair on my head."

At that moment, the phone started ringing on the coffee table. Fenrir leapt to get it but Harry beat him to it and took the call. Instantly, Tom's velvety sharp voice filled his ears,

"Mr. Greyback…"

Harry cut across him immediately and spoke in his perfect French accent,

"Monsieur Greyback is otherwise indisposed but he would like me to convey a message to you… This deal will not be happening."

Tom laughed, and the sound was sharper than a double-edged sword and more melodic than any symphony he'd ever heard,

"Monsieur J, I was looking forward to seeing you today."

It was Harry's turn to laugh and he did,

"My reflection has never seen me properly, Monsieur Voldemort."

Voldemort voice grew serious and he spoke,

"I did not call for chit chat. If you refuse to make this deal, then you alone will be responsible for the consequences."

Harry clutched the phone tight in his hand and whispered in his most seductive French voice,

"I will enjoy watching you try, Monsieur Voldemort… Au revoir."

He ended the call and looked up at Fenrir who looked as pale as a ghost. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, daring him to defy his decision But Fenrir said nothing and simply walked out of the room.


	89. Chapter 89

Harry sat cross legged in the middle of the bed as he scribbled non-stop in his notebook. He wrote everything down…from the moment, Fenrir had first brought up thee deal till the moment, the meeting had actually taken place.

On paper, it seemed so obvious that Tom and his cartel was behind the anonymous tips that the FBI and CIA were receiving…CIA…He was still bothered by that…When he’d interrogated the agent, he’d been expecting that he belonged to the FBI… But the man had confessed that he worked for the CIA and he’d been sent to detain Fenrir.

With the FBI, CIA and God knew how many other agencies on their trail, Harry was beginning to consider going underground for a while and continuing their operation from there…But… Tom and his cartel couldn’t go unpunished for what they had done. He had to teach him a lesson about who was boss.

He closed the notebook and laid back as he stared at the wood panelled ceiling. Why did Tom have to mess with him? He truly didn’t want to hurt him after all the trouble he’d gone to wake him up but he had no choice. If Tom was determined to dance with him then he’d just have to take him up on his offer after all.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to their pilot to keep the private jet ready in the morning before placing it beside him on the pillow. Sending Fenrir away seemed like the best course of action at the moment. He knew Fenrir would whine and protest about it but his security was his first and foremost concern at the moment.

Whatever game Tom was playing was bound to end in bloodshed and Harry wouldn’t have Fenrir anywhere near here when it came to that. He really wished it didn’t come to that though and Tom saw sense and left their business alone but that seemed like a fool’s dream at the moment. If what he’d read about Lord Voldemort was true then the man was highly ambitious…almost to the point of insanity…Well he could rival him there. If he decided that Tom was a threat then he would go after him, no holds barred.

He closed his eyes and almost unconsciously, his mind wandered to the memories of Tom he had gathered tonight…His impeccable black suit…He would have so much pleasure ripping it off his lean body and revealing the pale skin underneath…. Those inky black hair… He fisted the sheets as he imagined tugging on them and bringing his princess down to his knees in front of him… Those full lips… He’d kiss them forever… Tom’s hands… He could almost see those pretty wrists tied with vivid red rope to his headboard… He’d give wave after wave of pain and pleasure to his princess until he couldn’t tell them apart…He’d make him scream his name in that beautiful voice of his…He’d make him beg, moan, groan…In fact he wanted to hear every sound he could illicit from his princess. He wanted to map every inch of his body with his fingers and lips and teeth…

Every single inch…

An image of Tom sprawled naked on his bed, his wrists and ankles bound tight with bright red rope to the bed posts and his needy eyes focused on him, sprang up in his head and his hand involuntarily trailed down his chest as he touched his own nipple and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. A soft gasp escaped his lips as his hips lifted off the bed and he humped the air.

What was wrong with him? Was he seriously aroused by a mere fantasy?

He opened his eyes just a bit and the sight of his own erection tenting his sweat pants was enough to make him groan…No…This was seriously not happening…He was supposed to be Asexual…

This madness had to stop right here…Asexual or not…He would not be aroused by Tom Bloody Riddle. He turned his head and bit down on his shoulder hard until the pain was strong enough to make his erection go away.

Once he was satisfied, he closed his eyes again and this time the only thoughts that dominated his head were of warm blood and shrill screams. He’d only killed a couple of hours ago but it had done nothing to satiate the need that was currently simmering in his chest, threatening to boil over…

He sat up straight in bed and rubbed his hand over his face before heading to the bathroom and splashing some water over his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a good couple of minutes as he wondered what Tom had thought about him? Had he felt what he’d felt? Had he somehow felt his presence or acknowledged the crackle that been in the air when they’d been in the same space?

No… Stuff like that only happened in movies or fairy tales…

He stepped back into the room and changed into a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt before grabbing his car keys from the dresser and heading out.

Some fresh air was bound to clear his head.

He wrote down a note for Fenrir, informing him of his flight in the morning and handed it over to Anton before getting into his car and racing off.

The rumbling sound of the engine was simply music to his ear as he cruised through South Hampton. Finally, he parked his car on Cooper’s beach and took off his shoes before stepping out over the wonderful sand. The cool wind blew his hair off his face and he smiled as he pulled a band out of his pocket and tied his hair at his nape before heading closer to the stormy waters. This was usually his favorite time to visit because no one was around, and he had the entire area to himself.

He loved watching the ocean in turmoil…the high waves…the choppy waters…There was something incredibly serene about it. But what he loved the most was the smell of the ocean…Fresh and salty and something completely indescribable yet utterly beautiful. Even more amazing were the sounds…The waves crashing over each other…The splash of water…The cawing of the gulls… It was a sensory treat.

He sat down cross legged over the sand before gathering a handful of it in his hand and then allowing it to slip back out…grain after grain…Just like time slipped by…  

He was glad, he’d decided to come out here because his mind felt calmer and his craving had gone completely silent for the moment…He knew it would raise its head again but for now…He simply enjoyed the best of what nature had to offer...  


	90. Chapter 90

The sound of a very familiar hauntingly beautiful melody woke him up and he knew that there was only one soul that could create something so devastating yet beautiful at the same time. He involuntarily rose to his feet and shrugged on a gown before padding his way downstairs barefoot. It was almost as of the sweet tendrils of the music called to him…pulled at him and he gave into the lure readily.

It didn't take him long before he found himself at the entrance of the sun room, where Marie, Anton and the rest of the house staff was gathered. It wasn't difficult to tell that they were completely ensnared by the music that emanated from the piano….But the piano was only the tool…The real source of the music was the lithe figure seated on the stool, dressed all in black…his sleek raven locks cascading down his shoulders, untied… His eyes closed and his lips curved up in a barely visible smile… His slim, beautiful fingers danced masterfully over the keys and just watching him play was a sight to behold…

Harry barely ever played…But when he did… He played for hours on end and no one could resist the lure of his music… It was like a siren's call… He was certain that if Harry ever decided to play professionally, he would be a star…But Harry had never craved fame…He preferred living in the shadows and he had always considered him his best friends.

He had no idea how long Harry continued to play the music but it seemed like hours before it stopped and he'd still not had enough. He wasn't the only one that was disappointed though…everyone else in the vicinity was just as saddened as him at the loss of the music.

Harry opened his eyes and his emerald orbs were practically sparkling… The way they did right before a hunt or when he was particularly exhilarated about something. The staff dispersed immediately when Harry eyed them all with a raised eyebrow before focusing his gaze on him,

"You're up early."

He couldn't tear his eyes off of Harry as he finger combed his sleek locks and tied them at his nape with a band. If it were up to him, he would never allow him to tie his hair. But Harry was a slave to no one's whims and so he kept his thoughts to himself,

"You were playing…How could I not awaken?"

Harry turned his gaze to the piano and stared at it with utter adoration,

"I just felt like it… It had been months anyway."

He rose from the stool with all the grace of a professional pianist and stepped closer to him,

"Did you enjoy it?"

He nodded and spoke,

"That was 'Waltz of the Wicked', wasn't it?"

Harry smiled brightly,

"Yes, it was… I'm flattered that you know all my pieces by name…"

He couldn't help but raise his hand and caress Harry's cheek,

"You leave your sheets lying around here when you leave. I've kept them all locked up in my study…Besides, how could I not know them all by heart? Everything about is precious to me."

Harry took another step closer to him and covered his hand with his,

"And that is exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing."

He frowned at him in confusion,

"What are you…?"

He couldn't finish his sentence though because a knock on the door distracted him. Andrew stood there and Harry spoke,

"Come in…You have the most perfect timing sometimes, Andrew."

Andrew walked in and he noticed that he was holding a briefcase in one hand and a tablet in the other. Harry held out his hand and Andrew immediately handed the tablet over,

"Everything's ready."

Harry swiped through something on the tablet and then grinned brightly,

"Great."

He felt like he was missing out on something and so he inquired,

"What's ready?"

Harry raised his eyes up from the screen and spoke,

"The jet's ready."

He crossed his arms over his chest and asked,

"And where are we going?"

Harry shook his head as he tsked,

"Not we…Just you… I'm sending you to Belarus."

He stared at Harry for a moment, completely dumbfounded by his statement. When his finally grasped the meaning of it, he couldn't help but ask,

"Belarus…But why?"

Harry handed the tablet back to Andrew and spoke,

"I want you out of the way while I find out who is ratting us out to the FBI and the CIA."

He wanted to argue. He had every right to argue but he also knew how futile it would be…Harry had made a decision and he would never back away from it, no matter what happened or how much he debated the issue,

"When did you decide this?"

Harry rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his pale, smooth arms and he couldn't help but be distracted by the sight…There was something he needed to be arguing…He didn't care about that anymore though,

"Last night…"

He sighed out in frustration. What happened to his authority when he was in Harry's presence? He was the pack alpha…The most powerful werewolf in the entire world... But something about Harry just made him weak in the knees and he couldn't fight him. He could never fight him,

"Andrew brought your travel documents. I had Marie pack your bags this morning. You're all set to leave in an hour. All you need to do is to take a shower and dress yourself up."

Sometimes he hated how powerless, Harry made him feel…How he could never go against his word or decisions. But this time, he just couldn't leave Harry alone here. He didn't know who Lord Voldemort was or what he was capable of. He had to stay here to keep Harry safe… He just couldn't afford to see him get hurt and the only way to do that was to sign a deal with him.

He took the briefcase from Andrew and spoke,

"I'll be ready in an hour."

He was just about to walk out of the room when Harry grasped his wrist,

"I know you're not happy with my plan, Fen. But it's the only option I have right now."

He nodded silently before speaking,

"I understand, Harry. When you're done here, you have to come join me in Belarus."

Harry smiled and leaned forward before pressing a kiss to his cheek,

"I wouldn't miss that for the world."


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly losing my will to write....

He was surveying the CCTV footage of last night…his eyes searching for only one face… Karina Petrov… But it was almost as if she was ghost because none of the cameras around the building had managed to capture a single image of her… If he hadn't seen her, been in the same room, heard her voice…He might have believed that he had imagined her… But that wasn't the case. She was real and absolutely cunning.

He looked away from the screen and stared at the painting that took up most of the wall, exactly opposite his desk. It had been created in 1850 as an oil on canvas painting by William-Adolphe Bouguereau... The painting depicted Dante and Virgil looking on as two damned souls were entwined in combat. One of the souls was an alchemist and heretic named Capocchio. In this depiction Capocchio was being bitten on the neck by Gianni Schicchi who had used fraud to claim another man's inheritance. It was known to be presently on display at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris but no one knew other than him or the museum curator he'd bribed that it was a fake. The painting in his office was the original one.

His thoughts drifted back to the phone call last night. It was clear that Greyback had no control of his own cartel. Mr. J, whoever he was, was the one with all the authority and it seemed his word was law. A meeting with him was certainly overdue. But, it was fairly obvious that a meeting with Mr. J was almost impossible to attain. Unluckily for him, he enjoyed making impossible things possible…There was a certain thrill to it… A certain exhilaration that he'd been missing all these years. He could feel it in hiss blood that he was going to enjoy this hunt a lot.

But, how to lure him out? He would need bait…

And just as he was wondering what the bait could be, a knock on the door forced him to look up and he spoke curtly,

"Come in."

Bellatrix walked into the room, dressed in a black pinstriped suit. Her hair tied up in an elegant bun and her luscious lips painted bright crimson as usual. Her high heels clicked clacked on the wooding flooring as she made her way to his desk and placed it on the dark polished surface,

"Fenrir Greyback."

He thanked her before picking up the phone and spoke,

"Well… Mr. Greyback… I thought you made it very clear last night that you had no wish to form a trade relationship between us."

Greyback sounded uncharacteristically nervous when he spoke,

"That was a mistake. I do wish to further my bond. Name a place, I will be there to finalize the deal."

He leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin as he contemplated that,

"Is your business partner aware of your decision?"

Greyback was silent for a while before he snapped,

"That is none of your concern."

He smirked,

"That's a no then."

Greyback barked stingily into the phone,

"Do you want the deal or not?"

He laughed softy before speaking,

"There is no need for you to take up that tone with me."

If Mr. J wasn't aware of Greyback's decision then that meant that Greyback was concealing it from him because he was afraid that Mr. J would not approve… How interesting….He could use that to his advantage though… This was a golden opportunity and he would be damned if he would let it slide,

"I'm sending you the coordinates. Be there in an hour."

He ended the call before Greyback could reply and tossed the phone back to Bellatrix, who caught it,

"Send him the coordinates. Have our men ready at the location."

Bella nodded silently before walking out of his office.

He steeped his fingers and rested his chin atop them as he contemplated how his plan would work out. In his head, he could see it crystal clear… But there were always bound to anomalies. Things didn't always go the way they were planned so extreme caution was needed.

He was not going to underestimate Greyback or his cartel…especially Mr. J….

* * *

He stood in the middle of the living room, as he stared at the pictures that lined the walls. He knew Harry was not going to react well to his decision…. But he was sure that he would never leave him… Harry cared about him in his own way. He would never desert him…. No matter how bad things got… Maybe in time, he would even understand the reason behind why he was making his deal.

Arms encircled his waist and he felt Harry's warm breath against his ear before he heard his voice,

"You're getting late, Fen."

Harry lips barely brushed his neck…a ghost of a kiss…before he withdrew and walked towards the wall,

"I'm sure we'll add some pictures to this when I catch up with you in Belarus."

He forced himself to smile and stepped closer to Harry,

"Definitely…"

He paused and then hesitated before inquiring,

"Can I ask you something?"

A small smirk curved up Harry's lips,

"You've never needed my permission to ask me a question."

He was afraid his trembling hands would give him away so he shoved them in the pocket of his jeans,

"You told me, you'd leave me last night…. Would you really do that?"

Harry's smirk vanished and something unrecognizable sparked to life in his emerald eyes. He closed the remaining distance between and placed his hands on his waist before leaning forward and rested his forehead against his. He could almost taste Harry's sweet breath and the insane urge to envelope those lips with his coiled tight in the pit of his stomach,

"No…"

He sighed out in relief and Harry pressed his lips to his…It wasn't a kiss… Far from it… The threat in Harry's voice when he spoke next made the hairs stand all over his body and sent a violent shiver down his spine,

"I trust you, Fen…. Don't shatter it."


	92. Chapter 92

Harry paced across his office, arms folded tightly across his chest. Mark hadn't reported back yet, which wasn't surprising. Though the team moved fast and could mobilize on a moment's notice, they'd still had to move in from outside of town to an apartment. Unless and until teleportation became a thing, he was going to have to be at least somewhat patient.

It bugged the hell out of him that he couldn't keep an eye on Fenrir. After Fenrir had left for the airport, Harry had tried to trace his movements through the tracker on his car but five minutes into the ride, the tracker had gone offline, so he'd switched to pinning down Fenrir's location through his cell phone, which to his surprise, had been a dead end as well…. So, as a last resort, he'd tracked the cell phone of the driver and the coordinates he'd received were of an apartment.

It hadn't taken the twins a lot of effort to provide him with the live feed of the lobby and the stairwell. Twenty minutes ago, the cameras had caught him on the stairs. Good. He was there. Harry just couldn't see him, and that was frustrating the hell out of him. What was he doing? What the hell was Fenrir up to me? He was hoping it wasn't what he was thinking…

The door opened, and Andrew swept into the office, eyes wide,

"What's going on?"

He held up his phone,

"I got your text, but…"

Harry immediately snapped,

"I need Fenrir back here now."

He raked a hand through his hair and then growled,

"He's going to do something incredibly stupid and I can't have that…"

Andrew immediately began swiping through his phone,

"May I ask what he's going to do?"

Harry slammed his hands down on the desk hard and shouted,

"HE'S GOING TO MAKE A DEAL WITH LORD BLOODY VOLDEMORT!"

Andrew straightened up and then inquired,

"Do you know where he is?"

Harry nodded,

"An apartment. The field ops team is heading in to grab him."

From the moment Fenrir had deactivated his GPS, Harry had alternated between murderously pissed at him and worried sick about him. Something about this felt all wrong…

Movement from the corner of his eye pulled his gaze to the screen, and he turned in time to see shadows darting up the stairwell towards the apartment. The team had made good time. Perfect.

In no time, they were on their way out again.

Good. In and out. Clean and easy.

He stepped away from the computer and called the twins while Andrew made some calls as well. Once he was done, he spoke uneasily,

"So, what's the plan once you've got him?"

Harry poured himself a glass of water and resisted the urge not to shatter it,

"I don't have a plan yet."

He drained his glass and then felt his restraint give in before he smashed the glass against the wall. How could Fenrir do that? How could he go behind his back?

Andrew's lips parted. He started to speak, but then Harry's phone buzzed. He picked it up off the desk and spoke,

"You got him?"

"No, Sir."

Mark's voice was full of uneasiness,

"Someone beat us here."

Harry's heart dropped. His eyes went to the feed closest to Fenrir's apartment, and someone hovered at the edge of the frame, a pistol in his hand. He was dressed casually… full tactical gear was too conspicuous in the daylight… but he was just standing there.

"Where's Fenrir? Is he…"

He squeezed his eyes shut as if that could successfully banish the unwelcome mental image of Fenrir's bloody body on the floor,

"Is he  _there?_ "

Mark hesitated for a couple of minutes before speaking,

"No. Whoever came in broke the door down, and it looks like there was a struggle, but there's no one here. Dead or alive."

The men Harry had seen coming into the building. That hadn't been his team at all. They'd been moving too fast and he'd taken for granted it would be his own team, and damn… He wanted to ask if there was blood. He didn't, though. No point.

And he was still furious with Fenrir, but like hell was someone dragging him off like this.

_If anyone shoots that bastard, it'll be me, and I haven't decided if I want to_.

With some effort, he forced back the acid rising in his throat and forced himself to calm down,

"Call in the rest of the team. I'll get a handle on where they're taking him, and we're going after him."

Mark replied promptly,

"You've got it, boss. Where are we meeting you?"

Harry ended the call as he spoke,

"I'll let you know as soon as I do."

They ended the call, and he frantically checked the cameras in the building's stairwell. There was footage of Fenrir… limp and unconscious and not dead, damn it… being hauled down the stairs by men in tactical gear.

Praying like hell, he switched to the camera that monitored the building's front door.

Bull's eye.

He couldn't see faces, but outside, there was an unmarked white van not unlike one of the vehicles in their fleet. After Fenrir had been unceremoniously tossed into the back, the doors were slammed and the vehicle moved forward, and Harry stabbed the pause button as the license plate came into view.

Andrew asked,

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay here."

He picked up his phone again, sent another call and put it to his ear. As it started ringing, he added,

"Keep everything running, and don't let anyone catch on that anything is wrong."

Andrew gave him a sharp nod and strode out of the office,

"Got it."

On the other end, Fred answered,

"What's up, Boss? I thought we were done for the day."

"I need you and George on traffic cameras,"

Harry said quickly,

"We're looking for a white GM van, license plate ending in K772."

Fred's voice immediately went serious,

"On it. Where was its last known location?"

Harry looked at the screen,

"It left Ninth Avenue…"

He checked the time stamp,

"Thirteen minutes ago."

In the background, fingers clicked on a keyboard,

"We'll update as soon as I have something."

Harry hung up and called Mark back,

"I have guys watching the traffic cams. Where should I meet you?"

Mark spoke up,

"We're on our way to you…I'm sending you the coordinates, Sir."

Harry called downstairs for Shane to wait for him out front. Then he opened the office closet, pushed some jackets aside, and pulled a heavy garment bag out of the back. With that over his shoulder, he headed out.

As he crossed the lobby from his private elevator to the car idling on the curb, someone called out,

"Do you need me to take those to the dry cleaner, Mr. Evans?"

"No, thanks."

Harry flashed a smile,

"I've got it."

If he said anything further, he didn't hear it. He fought the urge to run, settling instead on his usual brisk I'm going somewhere important walk. No one ever questioned him or got in his way. Shane was waiting on the curb, door open,

"Where are we headed, sir?"

Harry showed him his phone screen,

"Program these coordinates into the GPS… We need to get there quickly."

Shane saluted,

"Pedal to the floor. Got it."

Harry slid into the back, and as soon as the door was shut, he shrugged out of his suit jacket. Then he lay the garment bag across the backseat and unzipped it, revealing the black tactical vest underneath.

With practiced ease, he put the Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath his shirt and the tactical vest went over his shirt. He already had an inkling to who had taken Fenrir and he was going to make sure they knew they'd messed with the wrong person. The Kevlar vest underneath the heavy armoured one was uncomfortable as hell but if he was going up against vampires, he could suck it up and live with it.

Changing out of his trousers and into a pair of jeans was a bit acrobatic in close confines, but fortunately he was well-accustomed to changing his outfits at a minute's notice. By the time the car stopped at the coordinates Mark had sent him, Harry had transformed himself from a guy in an expensive suit to a black-clad member of the field ops team, complete with a holster strapped around his thigh and another under his arm.

He got out of the car and jumped in through the open back of the team's van. As soon as he was inside, the tires squealed, jarring everyone inside.

Danny pushed a pair of boots toward him. Harry toed off his dress shoes, and as he shoved his foot into one of the boots, asked,

"Any updates from the twins?"

"Working on it."

Mark gestured with his phone,

"The van was spotted about ten minutes from here."

"Good."

Harry pulled his laces tight,

"Because I don't know how much time we have."


	93. Chapter 93

By the time Harry was completely suited up, Fred and George had tracked down the van on traffic cameras. They kept an eye on it as it moved from one camera to the next and relayed the information to Harry and the driver.

Before long, they'd led the team into a rundown part of the city where the lines between commercial and industrial districts bled into each other. High rent had driven many companies out, and there were dozens of abandoned office buildings, auto shops, small factories, and even a couple of gas stations that looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic dystopia.

"Any idea where we're headed?"

Danny asked. Fred's voice came down Harry's earpiece,

"The van was last spotted at the intersection. There's a cluster of abandoned buildings there… warehouses and small factories, mostly… but no cameras beyond that intersection. They passed out of our field of vision twenty minutes ago and haven't resurfaced."

"Copy that. We'll take it from here."

Harry turned to Danny and Mark,

"You two get all that?"

They both nodded. Mark turned to the drive,

"How close are we to the intersection?"

"Six blocks."

The engine whined subtly as he gave it some more gas,

"We'll be there shortly."

Everyone in the back… Harry, Danny, Mark, and three members of the field ops team… checked their weapons and adjusted their gear. Almost go time.

The van parked three streets over. It would mean moving out in broad daylight, which was a little too conspicuous for Harry's taste even though they'd all covered their black tactical gear with generic coveralls and jackets. Anyone who saw them would think they were just employees of some company or another. As long as they didn't see the weapons, anyway.

Harry didn't like it, but there wasn't much choice. This would have been a hell of a lot easier, not to mention safer, under cover of darkness, but Fenrir couldn't wait that long, and parking the van close to the building was suicide.

The other three team members headed in first, creeping up on the front and rear entrances of the building.

After a few long minutes, one of them quietly said into the radio,

"There's a security door at the northeast end of the building. Guards pass by at three-minute intervals."

Danny asked,

"Can you get the security door open?"

"Stand by."

More silence. More waiting. Then,

"Door is unlocked. Proceeding inside."

Harry gave the order,

"As soon as you're in, take cover and wait for us."

Danny pulled his jacket tighter around himself to mask the rifle slung underneath while Harry pulled on his ski mask before speaking,

"Watch for any unusual movement."

"Copy that."

Harry, Mark, and Danny left the van, and when the security door was in sight, they hung back and waited for security to pass by. Then they moved in. A small rock, slightly larger than a marble, had been wedged in under the door to let it close just enough to be inconspicuous without letting the lock engage.

They slipped into the building and rejoined the rest of the team. They quickly and quietly shed their jackets and coveralls; now that they were inside, camouflage was less of a priority than mobility and stealth.

"We went ahead about thirty meters,"

Joe said in a hushed voice,

"Got eyes on some security detail with some solid firepower."

Harry nodded,

"What are they guarding?"

Joe gestured toward the south end of the building. "There's a section that looks like it was used for offices at some point. The warehouse is mostly open, but there's a walled-off portion, and the security team seems to be focusing on that."

Mark spoke up,

"If Mr. Greyback is here, that's probably where they're keeping him."

Harry thumbed the butt of his pistol,

"We need to neutralize as much of their security as we can, as quietly as we can. Do we know how many are inside the building?"

Conner, one of operatives who'd come in with Joe, shook his head,

"Not without watching them for more than a few minutes."

That wasn't an option, they could afford right now,

"Then we'll have to work with what we know. I say we break off into pairs. If you can neutralize a guard without drawing attention, do it. Otherwise, your objective is to get into that office and find Fenrir. Keep your radios on and stay as quiet as you can. We don't know what they plan to use him for, and they could kill him if we spook them."

Nods all around.

Sanchez adjusted his earpiece,

"And if someone starts making noise?"

Harry focused his attention on him,

"Go in hot and fast… If our cover gets blown, then do whatever it takes to get to Fenrir and extract him. Everyone got it?"

More nods. Harry gestured at Sanchez,

"You go with Mark. Joe, you stay with Danny. Conner, you're with me. Now let's go."

The team moved out in pairs.

Daylight sliced in through broken windows, but it only illuminated so much. With the overhead lights long since smashed, the warehouse was mostly dark, and the black clad operatives slipped almost soundlessly in separate directions.

Him and Conner headed around toward the west side of the building, moving along tall metal shelves that had probably once held manufactured goods waiting to be packed and shipped. They were empty now, which didn't provide much in the way of cover, but there were plenty of shadows.

Still, they kept their heads down and on a swivel. The shelves were tall enough, so they didn't have to crouch quite as much to stay low, which made it easier for them to move fast.

He had a hunch as to why Fenrir was being held here… Tom was showing him the consequences of his refusal… Well he'd messed with the wrong person… He was going to get Fenrir out alive, no matter what and then he was going to show Tom, the real meaning of the word consequence. This was war now…plain and simple…

Conner ran point and Harry was right on his heels, and in no time, they'd gone almost the entire length of the warehouse, closing in quickly on the offices where…

Suddenly someone grabbed the back of his vest…It took him less than a second to respond. He twisted sharply to one side and slammed the hand on his back against the wall. The grip loosened, and Harry jerked away, spun around, and drove his elbow into the man's gut before landing a hard kick to the inside of his knee.

Before the man could fully stumble  _or_  recover, Harry shoved the butt of his rifle into his face and the attacker crumpled at their feet.

Harry began tugging some zip-ties out of his pocket and Conner spoke,

"Those rumors really are true then, Sir."

Harry put a tie around the man's ankles and spoke,

"You should believe everything you hear about me."

Conner was staring at him with utter admiration in his eyes,

"When this is all over could you teach me a thing or two, Sir?"

Harry nodded,

"Deal. But let's get this guy bound and find Fenrir."

While the man was stunned, they zip-tied his wrists together and then to a sturdy-looking pipe. Harry slapped some tape over his mouth and once he was satisfied that this particular threat was neutralized, immobilized, and silenced, they continued on their way.

In his earpiece, Danny said in a hushed voice,

"I've got eyes on Mr. Greyback."

Harry's stomach somersaulted,

"Where? Is he all right?"

He hated the break in his calm and cool persona, but there was no time to worry about that at the moment.


	94. Chapter 94

In his earpiece, Danny said in a hushed voice,

"I've got eyes on Mr. Greyback."

Harry's stomach somersaulted,

"Where? Is he all right?"

He hated the break in his calm and cool persona, but there was no time to worry about it.

"Alive and bound."

He paused,

"At least two men in the room with him, and I've got a man and a woman just outside."

Fred spoke up in his ear piece,

"Can you focus on each of them long enough for me to get a look?"

There was silence for several seconds, which made Harry twitchy, but he bit back his impatience. If Fred could tell them what they were up against, it could be a game-changer. Finally Fred exclaimed,

The woman… She's the one that was present with Lord Voldemort that day at the gala."

Harry bit back a curse,

"So, we can assume they're heavily armed and thoroughly trained."

Danny whispered,

"We might want to hang back and wait for reinforcements…"

Harry cut him off sharply

"No time… Conner and I took down a security guard, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds him."

Mark spoke up grimly,

"We don't have time anyway… I got close enough to hear the man and woman. They've got someone coming to get Mr. Greyback."

This time Harry did curse,

"So, we either go up against these guys and get him out now, or we go against them and a vampire army."

Sanchez shook his head,

"Doesn't sound like we've got a lot of choice. What's our move, Boss?"

The whole team was silent for a moment as Harry contemplated a plan of action. Finally Mark asked him,

"Where's the security guard you took out, Sir? I think Conner and Joe should get him someplace inconspicuous where no one will find him."

"On it."

Joe and Conner both said into their radios.

Conner looked at him. They exchanged nods, and then Conner slipped into the shadows.

"Joe, switch to channel two,"

He was saying as he moved,

"We'll switch back after we meet up."

"Copy that."

And nothing more came from Joe or Conner.

Harry's neck itched with the awareness that he was alone, even though he was well-hidden in the shadows. He crept along the wall, getting closer to the offices where Fenrir was being held,

"Team, what's your twenty?"

Mark spoke up,

"Sanchez and I have eyes on Mr. Greyback. We're moving in."

"I'm almost to… "

Movement caught Harry's eye. He turned, recognized the two shadowy figures, and changed his course,

"I'm coming in on your right. Five o'clock."

Sanchez made a beckoning gesture, acknowledging he was aware he was coming up behind him.

Danny spoke,

"I see all three of you… I'm coming in from the front. Drop the guards and get in to that office as fast as you can."

They all spoke quietly,

"Copy,"

Then they were moving. All of them. They didn't speak, just communicated in the practiced gestures and near-telepathy of a team that had trained so often together.

This was what they'd trained for. He'd just never thought it would count like this.

Mark stopped abruptly and made a gesture to indicate look up ahead.

Sanchez and Harry both craned their necks. It only took a second to zero in on what he'd seen… the man was walking away, phone to his ear. The woman was going in, and she was reaching for her gun.

Harry's heart jumped in his throat and he ordered in a loud whisper,

"Move! Get in there and take them out!"

All at once, they were running, and suddenly there was gunfire. The woman came back out of the room, gun out, and shot back at, he assumed, Danny. The rest of the team closed in fast, and Danny laid more cover fire, driving the woman back into the office.

Harry's ears were ringing now. Too much gunfire in an enclosed space. The deafness disoriented him, made it hard to keep track of everyone and everything. He couldn't even make out what the voices on his radio were saying.

Heart pounding, he stayed right on Sanchez's heels. Mark stooped briefly and sent a stun grenade skittering in through the open door. They all paused, and as soon as the flashbang went off, they ran inside.

The room was absolute chaos. The air was opaque with smoke, and all the shouts and noise were drowned out by the cotton in Harry's ears.

One of the guys made a grab for Mark, but Danny and Harry both fired. The man grabbed his ruined throat, and had Harry's ears not been ringing, he probably would've heard the man gurgling and gagging just before he collapsed… A shame really… He'd really wanted to hear that…

Harry searched the thick air for faces. He found Sanchez grappling with one of the other security guards, and someone had been dropped, either by a fist or a bullet… it was hard to tell in all the smoke.

He managed to get close enough to stun Sanchez's opponent by slamming his rifle butt into the back of the man's head. He dropped, and Sanchez gave Harry a sharp nod of thanks.

The woman slipped past and out the door. Danny didn't hesitate and ran like hell after her.

"Don't you dare let her get away!"

Harry shouted after Danny. He spared about two seconds to look at Fenrir. One of Fenrir's eyes was mostly swollen shut, but the other still seemed all right. Iron chains were wrapped up around his wrists, torso and ankles and the burn marks were definitely gruesome. He was conscious, if a bit stunned from the chaos and the flashbang, and confusion was written all over his battered face, but he was alive.

Good enough.

"Sanchez, keep an eye on him."

Harry ordered and then he hurried after Danny and the woman. He was moving fast and low along the corridor, and he followed.

In his earpiece, Danny said,

"I'm going to swing around to the left and cut her off up ahead. Stay on her tail."

"Copy that."

Danny vanished into the shadows. The woman kept running.

Harry sprinted after her. Near the end of the corridor, she pulled a wobbly shelf over, but it barely slowed him down. This was what his team trained for… speed, stealth, and accuracy even when the environment made it difficult.

He was over the pile of debris in seconds and…

Didn't expect her to be waiting for him.

She swung a broken metal chair at him. He put up his arm, and the pads under his sleeve dulled the impact. Then he grabbed the chair leg, used it to haul her off-balance, and sent her stumbling a couple of steps. She recovered fast and came at him. She got in a solid punch to his face, but the mask provided protection and he blocked the second with his elbow. While she was recovering from that, he went for her exposed side, but she threw her weight into him. He would have been able to hold on to his balance, but the loose debris under his foot slid, and they both went staggering toward what was left of a crumbling wall. Harry fell first. Something jabbed into his side, making his eyes water, and then her weight landed on top of him and drove that something harder into his flesh,

"Damn."

Pain and fury conspired to give him a second wind, and he threw his elbow into her cheekbone, then took advantage of her being stunned to shove her off him. As he rose, his gloved hand instinctively went to his back and side. His vest was ripped, probably from the rebar sticking out of the pile, and the pain was enough to make his eyes water, but not enough to slow him down. Not while there was still active, imminent danger.

Before the woman could get to her feet, Harry lunged at her, grabbed her arm, and twisted it behind her back. She howled in pain and he snarled,

"You done?"

She tried to struggle,

"Go to hell, You Bastard."

He gritted his teeth. Then he started to pull her to her feet, but the world listed suddenly, and he faltered.

She seized the opportunity, wrenching her arm free and spinning around to kick his leg out from under him and cracked her elbow against his temple for good measure. Harry staggered back. Fresh pain felt like it was about to saw him in half, but there was a loose gun, and she was hurrying toward it, so pain would have to wait. Why the hell couldn't he move faster than this lumbering gait?

He grabbed her by the arm and the back of her jacket, spun her around and sent her careening into a wall hard enough for her head to hit with sickening crack. Then he slammed the woman's head against a pipe, and that was enough to stun her. Her body went slack, but from the pained moan, she was definitely still alive.

Danny took over then and pinned her down with a knee between the shoulders and tugged some zip ties free. Danny freed one of the ties and Harry spoke up,

"Good. Nicely done."

Harry leaned against a pillar. His head was swimming as the adrenaline started to wane. He didn't usually get this jittery and wobbly, not even after an intense op, but he was crashing fast and hard. Must've been because the stakes had been higher than he was used to. Fenrir. They'd had Chris. And now Fenrir was safe, and the vampires were neutralized, and yeah, a crash suddenly seemed inevitable. He was drenched in sweat; he'd need water after this, definitely.

Danny immobilized the woman with some zip ties and put some tape over her mouth, then sat back on his heels and exhaled. Harry spoke up,

"You all right?"

He nodded and looked at him, mouth open like he was ready to say something, but then he froze and his eyes widened,

"Oh Damn"

He scrambled to his feet and reached for him,

"How bad are you hurt, Boss?"

"Hurt?"

He looked down and had a split second to register the blood on his hand and in his clothes… Oh… that was definitely not sweat… before the motion of turning his head made the whole world list violently.

Strong arms steadied him, and Danny murmured,

"Easy, Boss. Come on. Lie down and let me have a look."

He didn't fight him. He suddenly couldn't. All he could do was let him ease him on to the cold, hard concrete. Distantly, he was aware of gravel or some sort of debris biting into his hip and shoulder, but then there was pain. Danny was messing with his side. Prodding at the pain, shoving at it, igniting even brighter and hotter pain until he couldn't breathe. He tried to shove him away, but he couldn't. He batted his hand away, and after that, he couldn't lift it enough to do anything anyway.

Through the haze of pain and dizziness, he was aware that Danny was talking, and he was talking fast, but he couldn't catch all of it. It was only when he heard Mark's voice on his earpiece that he realized he hadn't been speaking to him at all.

"Calling in an ambulance."

Mark sounded like he was moving, and quickly,

"Where are you?"

They went back and forth, and as fog closed in, Harry thought they sounded like they were playing a weird version of Marco Polo. He almost laughed but didn't think he had the energy.

"Boss?"

Danny's voice was close and sharp. He removed his mask before tapping his cheek. Why was his hand wet?

"Open your eyes. Come on, Boss."

He tried. He really, really tried.

"Boss?"

He smacked his face. He knew he did.

But why didn't he feel it?


	95. Chapter 95

He wasn't entirely sure what was happening, only that Danny wanted an ambulance and Mark was frantically trying to find him and Harry. Harry was silent on the radio, so Fenrir was pretty sure he knew why they needed the ambulance… He just wasn't sure how  _badly_  they needed it. Had Harry been shot? How hurt was he?

Sanchez wanted him to sit tight and wait for that ambulance to arrive, but he wasn't having it. Despite his wobbly balance and stiff, sore body, he followed Mark through the maze of the warehouse, a reluctant Sanchez bringing up the rear.

Up ahead, Danny was kneeling, and Fenrir's heart dropped. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix, bound and gagged against a pipe, but then his focus shifted entirely to Harry's still, prone form on the debris-littered floor in front of Danny.

Mark and Fenrir both dropped to their knees beside Harry.

"What happened?"

Danny shook his head,

"I'm not sure."

They were fighting when I caught up. I don't know if she stabbed him, or… I don't know. But he's bleeding bad."

Fenrir craned his neck to see the wound. Danny had staunched the bleeding with a couple of QuikClot sponges, and he tried not to think about how much worse off Harry would've been if he hadn't had those handy or if he hadn't thought to use them. But Harry definitely wasn't out of the woods. Mark's usually rock steady voice betrayed a note of deep worry,

"Ambulance is on its way. Does he have any other injuries?"

Danny spoke up,

"None that I can see."

He lifted his gaze, and like Mark, his seemingly unshakeable exterior was definitely shaken,

"We have to get him out of here  _now_."

Sanchez spoke up as he nodded towards Harry,

"Wait… If they pick him up like that…"

Mark and Danny stilled, exchanging uneasy glances. He ordered quickly,

"Get his gear off."

Danny undid one of the straps on Harry's vest. As quickly and carefully as they could, they stripped off Harry's body armour and holsters. Beneath it all, he had on normal civvies, and with all his tactical gear gone, he looked like…hell. He looked like a civilian who'd been kidnapped, roughed up, and caught in the crossfire. The gear hadn't done a thing to keep him alive after he'd been injured, but Fenrir was nearly overwhelmed by the need to put it all back on him, as if it might protect him until the medics arrived….

That was another dilemma… He wasn't sure how Harry would react to that… But he could buy the hospital if he needed to, if it ensured privacy and secrecy.

"Here."

Danny handed him Harry's balaclava and gestured at the wound,

"Keep pressure on this."

Fenrir grabbed the balaclava and used it as a makeshift bandage, pressing it hard against the QuikClot-packed wound. He seriously didn't like the way Harry looked. Anyone… even decked out in full battle rattle… looked vulnerable and all too mortal when they were wounded, especially when they were fading in and out like Harry was. But somehow, peeling away all the layers of arms and armour made him smaller and more fragile… Maybe it was the absence of power that Harry always exuded when he was conscious.

He'd seen him in this state before when he'd been shot all those years ago and even though deep inside he knew that Harry would make it, that did nothing to lessen the concern and fear… But he wasn't as afraid for Harry's life as he was afraid of what would happen when he would wake up. He was well aware of the fact that Harry wasn't in the habit of dealing out idle threats…Would he really leave? He'd gone against Harry's word… Broken his trust… It was an unforgivable crime and he was certain, Harry would make him pay the penalty.

All that tactical equipment hadn't do anything for him… Maybe it was one of the reasons Harry always avoided it.

Fenrir leaned hard on the wound, refusing to let a single red blood cell slip out without a fight. Harry whimpered, trying feebly to pull away, and Fenrir murmured,

"That's it. Stay with me."

As long as Harry was fighting, he was awake, and if he was awake, he was alive. Guilt crashed over him in tumultuous waves. Harry had forbidden him from making this deal and he'd still decided to go through with it… What a disaster that had been… And now Harry was down, wounded in an attempt to save  _him_.

He stared down at Harry's pale face with stinging eyes. His conscience was ripping him to shreds over Harry getting hurt like this in the name of saving him. Danny spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts,

"We need to get out of here… Us, him, them."

She waved a hand at Bellatrix… Mark ordered,

"Sanchez, get our prisoners to the warehouse. I'm sure Mr. Evans would like to have a word with them when he's recovered."

Danny exhaled and nodded,

"Thanks heavens, you didn't put me in charge of them. Because I'll just end up shooting all of them. and I don't feel like going to jail tonight."

Mark muttered darkly,

"You and me both."

Fenrir glanced back and forth between them. He shouldn't have been surprised at their fierce loyalty towards Harry. Maybe he wasn't…Harry had that innate ability that made people worship him…that made them desperate enough to kiss the very ground he walked on…

He shifted his attention to Harry. He hadn't moved much. What little consciousness he had was fading along with the color of his lips, and Fenrir pressed against the wound, both to staunch the bleeding and to see if Harry would respond. Harry moaned, but he didn't seem to have any fight left in him.

_Come on, Harry. You're stronger than this. Just stay with me._

A hand squeezed Fenrir's shoulder, and he looked up into Danny's dark eyes,

"He'll be all right. He's way too stubborn to let something like this take him down."

Fenrir laughed, and the sound startled him because it was closer to a sob than he'd expected. Danny gave his shoulder another squeeze, then straightened up before speaking to Mark,

"Any word on that ambulance?"

* * *

One minute he was leaning over Harry, pressing the balaclava into his wound and praying for him to stay alive.

The next, there'd been footsteps and the clatter of a stretcher.

And then…taillights.

He stood there in the warehouse doorway, jaw slack and eyes wide, watching the ambulance disappear.

It wasn't over. There was no telling if Harry would pull through or if there'd been too much damage. If he'd lost too much blood. But it was over. He'd been handed off to the medics, and Fenrir would no longer play a part in Harry's fight to survive. It felt so…abrupt. Anticlimactic, in a way, and yet not. As if the world had been yanked out from under him as soon as the ambulance doors slammed shut, and now he couldn't find his footing.

As soon as the ambulance disappeared from the warehouse's parking lot, all of them… Fenrir, Mark, Danny, Conner, and Joe… breathed sighs of uneasy relief. Now that Harry was on his way to the hospital and their mission was well and truly over, the team started to let the cracks show. Grimacing as they removed gear. Gingerly rubbing joints. Wincing as they stretched their necks and twisted cricks out of their backs. With the major injury taken care of and Harry out of their hands, they could focus on the scrapes and bruises.

Danny dumped half a bottle of water on some dirty scrapes on his forearm, then tilted his head back and pounded the rest of it. Goose bumps sprang up on Fenrir's neck and arms as he remembered Harry doing the same thing with a bottle of vodka a lifetime ago in what seemed like a dream…

They'd been in Mexico to negotiate a deal and the night when they'd successfully completed it, he'd stated that Harry wouldn't be able to drink the entire bottle in one go. Harry had taken that as a challenge and downed the entire bottle in one… He remembered that he'd had that distant thought of taking advantage of Harry in his inebriated state, but Harry had been sharp enough to lock himself up in his room before passing out.

More ambulances arrived and along with them came cops. Fenrir wasn't too worried when they left. They were in his pocket already. He had deep reach into local law enforcement and didn't doubt for a second that they'd take care of this situation too. Hell, Harry probably could have gone to the hospital in his full body armour without piquing police interest. It was the media's interest Fenrir had been worried about. Something like that got enough attention, even an entire police department in his back pocket wouldn't be able to spin it away.

"Mr. Greyback?"

The EMT's voice pulled his focus back, and he turned to her.

"Hmm?"

What had she said? He'd been spacing out and pretty much forgotten she was there at all, or that he'd been sitting on the ambulance's bumper this entire time.

Her forehead creased,

"I said I'd like to have you come to the hospital for a CT scan for that concussion. There isn't much we can do for the broken nose, but maybe we can at least get you something for the burns and the pain."

Pain. Concussion. Broken nose. Hell, Fenrir was so numb and shaken, he barely felt the vicious throbbing across the bridge of his nose or the thumping inside his skull or the stinging burning all over his body. He wanted to resist going to the hospital, but on the other hand, that would be an express ticket to the place where Harry was. He could put up with some prodding and scanning if it meant getting news on Harry.

"Okay… Yeah. Just, uh…"

He nodded toward Mark and Danny,

"Let me check in with them."

She frowned but nodded.

Carefully, Fenrir stood, and he crossed the chaotic crowd to Mark and Danny, who were still crudely treating their minor wounds instead of bothering with EMTs.

Mark looked up from dabbing at something on his forearm,

"How are you, Sir?"

"I'm good."

He gestured towards the paramedic,

"I'm leaving for the hospital. I want maximum security for our guests."

Mark and Danny nodded sharply,

"Yes, Sir."

He was about to walk away when they spoke,

"Sir, could you inform us of his condition when you get to the hospital?"

He turned back and spoke,

"I will."

With a heavy heart, he walked towards the paramedic van and prayed that Harry was okay.


	96. Chapter 96

The call was sudden but not unexpected and he felt like something was lodged in his throat when he spoke,

"Hello…"

The voice that streamed through the receiver was full of venom and rage,

"I want my people back or you and every single person who works for you will suffer the consequences… Have I made myself clear?"

The call ended before he could respond and he sighed before handing the phone to Andrew. Handing those people back was not an option. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back into Harry's hospital room.

The room was so quiet, it was going to drive him insane. The monitors were all shut off. No beeping. No real noise except the white noise of the oxygen tank and some electrical equipment.

On the screen, colorful lines and numbers kept track of Harry's vital signs. He didn't know enough about medical monitoring to say if they were good or bad, but they were consistent. That had to be mean something, right?

As for Harry himself… He was still and quiet, his chest rising and falling under the blanket, gown, and wires. His eyelids fluttered now and then, but it had been a solid forty-five minutes since he'd made any effort to open them.

He'd been out of recovery for almost three hours, but he'd been asleep most of that time. Though he'd had a transfusion, he was still weak from the blood loss, not to mention the anaesthesia.

He'd talked to the doctors a few minutes ago and to his relief, they'd insisted Harry would be all right. He'd survived the trip to the hospital and the surgery, even if it had been by the skin of his teeth, and he'd been given enough blood to compensate for what he'd lost.

After what seemed like days, Harry's lids fluttered, then opened. He groaned softly, winced, and then looked up at Fenrir. A few more blinks, and his gorgeous emerald eyes seemed to come into focus. For a moment, they were blank and then something unreadable flashed in them before he spoke,

"Hey. You look like a mess."

A relieved laugh burst out of him,

"I look better than you."

Harry chuckled, sounding exhausted. He tried to move but grunted in pain and grimaced,

"What the…"

He put a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him,

"Please don't move or you'll pop a stitch."

Confusion flitted through his gaze,

"A stitch? What the hell is stitched?"

Harry glanced down,

"Did someone steal my kidney?"

He couldn't help but laugh,

"Yes, in the middle of an extraction op, someone stopped to extract your kidney."

Harry laughed weakly and then his brow furrowed,

"Wait. Extraction?"

He blinked again, and when he met Fenrir's eyes this time, he seemed to focus for real. As if the comment had brought him to full awareness,

"What happened?"

He spoke,

"The doctor's best guess? You tore yourself open on a chunk of rebar while you and Bellatrix were fighting."

Harry scowled,

"Right… I'm fine now…"

He pointed emphatically at the vicinity of Harry's wound,

"Umm…"

Harry rolled his eyes and slurred,

"She just got lucky there was some rebar there when she pushed me. Worthless Kevlar."

He stifled a chuckle,

"It says right on the label it's to protect from bullets, not knives."

Harry snorted,

"Doesn't say anything about failing miserably over rebar."

He reasoned,

"I'm guessing it was a sharp piece, so it was closer to a knife."

Harry huffed,

"We need to have this conversation when I'm not on so many drugs."

Fenrir slipped his hand into Harry's, and he sobered.

"I can take a raincheck on it. I'm just glad you're okay. I was worried sick."

Once again, he saw that same unreadable expression appear in Harry's eyes,

"You should've slept through it like I did."

He raised an eyebrow,

"How could I have slept when you were fighting for your life?"

Harry lifted one shoulder in a weak half shrug, as if to say, Eh, not even going to argue. Fenrir watched him for a long moment, then gently squeezed his hand. Harry began speaking slowly,

"You broke my trust, Fen."

Fenrir flinched, breaking eye contact and staring at their hands instead,

"How could you?"

The question was a gut punch, but not a surprising one. Without meeting Harry's gaze, he shook his head. The silence set in, and he could feel Harry still watching him. After a moment, he lifted his head again,

"I'm sorry…"

Harry shrugged gingerly,

"It doesn't matter now."

Fenrir brought Harry's hand up and kissed it. A faint, sleepy smile pulled at Harry's pale lips,

"Maybe I expected too much from you, Fen."

Fenrir winced and Harry's expression hardened. Though he was still obviously weak and tired, he was very much the Cartel Boss right then,

"I'm really sorry, Harry…I just panicked…"

He waved a hand, trying to find the right words to express what he'd felt when Voldemort had called him and threatened him,

"I'm sorry."

He paused and then pleaded,

"Please forgive me…"

Harry held his gaze, then laughed dryly as he let his eyelids slide closed,

"As much as I want to shoot you myself…"

He opened his eyes again, and gave Fenrir's hand a weak but firm squeeze,

"I like it better when you're alive than dead…"

Fenrir pressed another soft kiss to Harry's fingers.

"That's almost alarmingly romantic coming from a man who's laid up in the hospital from trying to save me after I did something stupid."

Harry gave a dismissive half shrug,

"I refuse to lose to a bloody vampire."

He gasped in mock offense and pouted,

"I prefer the version where you gallantly swooped in to save me like my prince charming."

Harry went still at that for a moment before he laughed and then grimaced,

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart."

He smoothed his fingers through Harry's hair,

"Well, either way, thanks for coming after me."

Harry smiled up at him,

"Thanks for not getting killed or something. I'd hate to go to all that trouble for nothing."

He spoke softly,

"In all seriousness, I'm glad you're okay."

Harry nodded,

"Me too."

Harry reached up and touched his face before caressing his cheek as his expression hardened again and he spoke in his deadly calm voice,

"But you should know that forgiveness is not a word in my dictionary, Fen."


	97. Chapter 97

"Has anyone ever told you that you  _might_  be a bit of a workaholic?"

Harry shot Fred a glare, then gingerly eased himself into his desk chair,

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Fenrir grimaced as he spoke to George,

"Good luck with that… Convincing him to rest is almost impossible…"

George flailed a hand at Harry,

"Are you kidding me? He'll die if he…"

Harry gritted his teeth as he settled into the chair and cut across him,

"I'm fine."

Every movement tugged at his sutures, and his body was tender all over. He pointed at the twins and demanded irritably,

"What are you two doing here? I don't need to be babied."

Fenrir settled down on the couch and Harry watched as Fred and George came to stand across his desk with their arms crossed over their chests,

"You know, it's okay to baby a wound when it's still glued, sewn, and stapled together."

Harry carefully gestured at his side,

"It'll be fine… It's glued, sewn, and stapled together. It's not going anywhere."

The twins threw their hands up and groaned in protest,

"You have no sense whatsoever of self-preservation. We don't know why we even try."

Andrew who'd been standing by the door and watching the scene, released a long-suffering sigh and took out his phone,

"We might need to shuffle your schedule around. Some meetings had to be postponed while you were in the hospital."

Harry gestured at Fenrir and looked at the twins,

"See… That's why I'm here. My schedule is already a train wreck thanks to someone needing an extraction team."

Fenrir made an unhappy sound and went to rub the bridge of his nose, but stopped, probably remembering his face was bruised.

Suppressing a grin, Andrew said,

"Mr. Fox would like to meet with you tomorrow afternoon. Should I schedule him and bump your sniper session?"

The twins' heads snapped up and their eyes widened,

"Bump his what now?"

Andrew turned to them and blinked with convincing innocence,

"His sniper session… What?"

The twins stared at both of them.

Then Andrew and Harry laughed. Laughing hurt, but it was worth it for the confused, horrified, annoyed, and then amused expressions that went across the twins' faces before they grumbled,

"You're a maniac, Harry."

Harry raised an unamused eyebrow,

"I thought you were already aware of that."

The twins mumbled obscenities as Andrew checked something on his phone. Probably his schedule,

"It looks like you still have that meeting today with YoungTek."

He lowered the phone,

"Would you like me to handle that?"

Harry rested his elbows on the desk and mulled it over. They usually operated under the guise of a security consultation firm and it was extremely important that they kept that front up… Now…more than ever because the FBI and CIA were definitely on their tails. The meeting wasn't anything important, so he figured that Andrew was more than capable of handling it,

"Sure."

Andrew nodded obediently before he gathered his jacket and briefcase,

"I'll give you a rundown when I get back, Sir."

He mumbled,

"Perfect."

As much as he wanted to get back to business as usual, he was admittedly not in any condition to plaster on his usual charm. Not enough to woo clients into signing contracts. Fortunately, there was no one as capable as Andrew, so he had absolute confidence the menial meetings and negotiations would run smoothly without him.

Releasing a long breath, he sat back against the plush leather chair and the twins asked softly,

"Are you sure you're okay to work? You've been out of the hospital for three hours."

Harry grimaced,

"And I was in it for five days that I'm never getting back."

The twins sighed as they came around behind Harry's chair and slid their hands over Harry's shoulders, but they didn't try to knead or massage them. Thank God for that… He was still way too sore for anything more than gentle contact. George whispered softly in his ear,

"It's okay to take it easy, you know."

Harry closed his eyes,

"I'm fine…"

The twins' hands vanished from his shoulders and Harry inquired,

"Why are you guys here? Did you not receive your payment?"

The twins spoke nothing for a while and when he opened his eyes, he found them back in front of his desk,

"It's not about the money… You could have died, Harry… When will you stop taking unnecessary risks?"

Harry rested his hands on the arms of his chairs and stared at them sharply,

"There was no risk."

The twins groaned,

"Say whatever you want… Your presence in that op wasn't needed… You could have led it from the safety of your office."

Harry growled angrily,

"WHY ARE YOU SO CONCERNED ABOUT ME?"

The twins squared their jaws, completely unfazed by his rage and then spoke,

"Because we care about you, you ungrateful bastard… The three people in this room plus Andrew are probably the only ones who know your real name and have seen your real face… We've been with you for years now and we genuinely care about you… When will you believe that?"

Harry forced himself to his feet and winced at the sudden pain…Regardless of that, he straightened up to his full height and stared pointedly at Fenrir,

"I trusted him and look what he did."

The twins sighed and spoke,

"Okay fine… Don't trust us… But, please, for heaven's sake, Harry… You need to start being more careful. You'll get yourself killed one day if you keep this up."

Harry smiled bitterly at that,

"You'll get your wish fulfilled soon enough… I'm leaving this company…this cartel… I'm leaving Fenrir permanently and I'm moving back to Baltimore."

Fenrir was on his feet in a flash and for the first time he spoke in a low broken voice,

"No, Harry… You can't… You just can't punish me like that…"

The twins were staring at him in disbelief before they spoke together,

"You're not serious, are you?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair and spoke,

"I don't jest…"

Fenrir was at his feet in an instant and Harry forced his hands into the pockets of his jeans,

"Harry…Please… Please, don't leave… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Harry stared at the cityscape through the glass wall and spoke coldly,

"You should have thought of that when you decided to make that deal behind my back… You made your decision and I'm making mine now… You can't say that I didn't warn you because I did in very clear words…"

He felt Fenrir's arms wrapped around his legs and he sighed before yanking them free from his hold and walking towards the twins,

"Nothing you say or do will move me or make me change my decision."

The twins had lowered their gazes and spoke together,

"You know how to find us if you need us."

And then they were out of the office. Harry walked towards the glass wall and rested his palms on the cool surface before leaning forward,

"Please, Harry… I'll do whatever you want… I'll pay whatever price you suggest but don't do this to me…"

Harry laughed derisively,

"And what about what you did to me, Fen? Should I let that go unpunished?"

Fenrir remained on his knees and shook his head frantically,

"Hurt me, Harry… Punish me… But this is too much."

Harry tsked,

"No… My decision has been made… I shall leave immediately after dealing with Bellatrix and Voldemort's men… Consider it a small mercy that I have informed you of where I shall be but if you ever come to seek me out in Baltimore… I swear, Fen… You will never see me again… I shall simply vanish in the crowd and you shall never know anything about my whereabouts or about me in general… I will be as good as dead to you."


End file.
